


Sigue Andando

by marquisdegayaf



Category: In the Heights - Miranda
Genre: Biseuxal characters, Gen, Misgendering at the start cuz even sonny doesnt know hes trans, Trans Character, Trans character of colour, Tw for misgendering, Tw for street harrasment, queer character(s) of colour, tw for homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-08-09 22:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 23,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7819894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marquisdegayaf/pseuds/marquisdegayaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'There are seven billion forty-seven million people on the planet, and I have the audacity to think I matter.'</p><p>The adventures of Sonny De La Vega before after and during realising he's trans and coming out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. La Vida De Luna

**Author's Note:**

> Make sure you check the additional tags for any triggers! If there are any more as the story develops I'll put them in the notes. So for the first chapters Sonny will be reffered to as Luna and with she/her pronouns, just to avoid confusion.

Nina is seventeen and Luna is thirteen and they're sitting in Nina's front room doing their homework. They work better together, Luna helps Nina with her Spanish grammar, as she's a native speaker, and Nina helps Luna with her math, as she's a genius. They work at the same pace, steadily and methodically and with high levels of concentration. Luna takes a break from the equation she's on and looks over at Nina, who is currently engrossed in conjugating verbs. 

Watching Nina work is almost like watching an incredible artist working on their masterpiece, but instead of Picasso putting the finishing touches on Guernica it's a Latina teenager working on an essay which by rights should be written by someone far beyond her years. They're both honour roll students, Nina has the collages buzzing already and Luna was just put up a grade after her teachers realised that there wasn't much more they could teach her. They understand each other on a deep level. So maybe that's why Luna feels a little light-headed whenever she looks at Nina for too long. Maybe that's why butterflies threaten to make their salsa dancing debut in her stomach when Nina smiles at her. That must be why. It has to be why, because Luna doesn't want to entertain the thought that it might be something else, she really doesn't. She desperately wants to be normal, to be the smart girl who gets into a great collage and dates smart middle class boys and makes her family so, so proud. But somehow she can't seem to. 

She shakes her head quietly and reminds herself that she gets the butterflies looking at Pete, too. Luna likes Pete a lot. He's always ready to greet her every morning as she walks to school, even though he dropped out a while back, he grins and shouts ‘¡buenos días Lulu!’ In his terrible broken Spanish from his perch on top of the bus stop before jumping down and following her all the way to the school gate, keeping her company with his stupid anecdotes that make her smile and his stupid smiles that make her feel warm all over. Yeah, Luna likes Pete a lot, so maybe what she feels about Nina is just platonic. She hopes so. 

Luna also hopes that the weird funk that she's been in since she started ‘blossoming’ (that's what Abuela calls it. Vanessa put it into simpler terms: ‘tits, ass and blood, baby.’) Will pass soon. Mami and Abuela said that ‘becoming a woman’ would be exhilarating and not all bad, but since the fateful day of primera sangre she's been feeling a stage twist in her stomach, and not just from the occasional cramp. Her development of pechos has been the worst thing yet, she wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't tried leaving for school in her favourite white tank top (a hand me down from Usnavi) the one day mami was home. Her mother let out a screech and began jabbering in frantic Spanish about buying corpiños and worrying about getting Luna a whole new wardrobe to fit her new body. Luna doesn't want a new wardrobe and she certainly doesn't want this new body. In fact she wants it gone pronto. An accidental look down at her torso while getting changed for gym or bed can send her into a strange spiral of intense feelings unlike any she'd experienced before la magia cambios began. The feelings are hard to describe, they're almost like constant invisible punches to every part of her body. Some days they become so intense that it's hard for her to get out of bed. She wishes she knew why they happen.

She's fully spaced out by now, her gaze has wandered back from Nina to her page when Nina speaks, ‘are you stuck?’ Luna shakes her head.  
‘On this? Nah, s’just factorising. Simple. I just got distracted.’  
‘Me too. Wanna take a break? I'll braid your hair?’ Luna wants to tell her that the prospect of having a heavy wide toothed comb wrenched through her curls until they're pulled into submission hasn't been her idea of fun since she was twelve, but she'd rather have her hair combed for hours with the biggest most painful brush in the world than upset Nina, so she nods.  
‘Sure.’ Nina looks thrilled. She never had barbies and Vanessa and Lincoln never let her touch their hair, so Luna has always been her one opportunity to practice hairstyling. She grabs the stupid comb and Luna moves to sit in front of her for easy access. Nina brushes away, parting Luna's waist length hair perfectly down the middle and tugging at knots until they disappear.  
“I wish I had your hair, Lu.” That's sincerity in Nina's voice, her hair is a different texture and lighter colour than Luna's and she's never been able to grow it any further than her upper back. Luna rolls her eyes.  
“Ay, take it, por favor! It’s a pain in the culo.” That's true. Luna detests her hair. Sometimes when she's home alone she borrows one of Usnavi’s stupid hats and tucks it all up until it's reminiscent of a crewcut. Nina shakes her head.  
“Its beautiful, tonta.” There's a softness in her voice which brings the warmth and butterflies straight back to Luna at an alarming speed. She shuts her eyes as Nina begins braiding away and pictures herself swatting the stupid butterflies into hell. 

After what feels like hours Nina manages to train Luna's hair into two symmetrically braids. Luna thinks it looks pretty badass, but that niggling urge at the back of her mind to cut it all off refuses to leave. Still, the smile she gives Nina isn't totally fake. Nina grins back, evidently proud of her handiwork.  
“Looks awesome, Ni. Best you've done on me yet.” That makes her smile even more.  
“You tell Dani that next time you see her, sí? She thinks I can't braid for shit.’  
“I'll do that.” There's a moment where they're both just smiling at each other and then Luna looks up at the clock.  
“Mierda, it's nearly six. I'd better get home before Abuela sends out a search party.”  
“Good idea. Thanks for the help with the past-participles.”  
“Anytime. Thanks for the help with the surds.” Nina flicks one of Luna's braids affectionately.  
“Anytime, mija. Send my love to Usnavi’s folks.” Luna nods and packs up her books, shoving them into her rucksack quickly before shouldering it and going to the door.  
“¡Hasta luego, Nina!” Nina waves in return,  
“¡Sí, adios!” Luna turns out of the door with a smile on her face.


	2. "See ya, sunshine."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is still pre-revalation so Luna and she/her. There's a bit of Pete/Sonny stuff in here too for you trashlords.

The walk from Nina's block to the De La Vega apartment is around fifteen minutes. After around three of said minutes Luna hears a familiar whistle and looks up. It's not an ugly wolf whistle like the ones she gets from creepy old white men in pickup trucks sometimes, it's more like birdsong. The source of the noise is of course Pete, who is balancing on the high fence of a house to her left. He jumps down and grins at her, today his face has thin streaks on neon pink and purple paint and she'd be a liar if she said it wasn't a good look on him. “Nice hair, state of Louisiana.” That takes her a second to work out. Luna-Lulu-Lu-Lou-Louisiana. It's one of his better ones. She tries to come up with a good response:  
“Nice warpaint, Jackson Pollock.”  
“Who?”  
“Art guy. Paints with marbles, his stuff's a mess.”  
“My type of art!”  
“I thought so. I'll get a book of his stuff from school for ya.”  
“What would I do without you keeping me cultured?” There's sarcasm, in his tone but she's known him long enough not to be deterred by it. She can sense at least a grain of excitement in that voice. They walk in comfortable silence for a while until they're at the street just before Luna's. They're smart enough not to be together too close to Luna's place, as neither of them can imagine any of the De La Vegas being at all pleased with the concept of Luna hanging out with a high school dropout two years her senior. Especially not her cousin. At twenty-one Usnavi worries more than Luna's Tío Tía Abuela and Mami put together, and Luna doesn't want to add to his stress. When they finally get to the top of Luna's street they stop. It dawns on her that they must be quite an odd sight to passers by, a five foot tall girl with stupid braids carrying an armful of books and a boy well into his sixth growth spurt covered in paint and clutching a boombox, and for some reason she likes that thought. Pete abruptly crashes her train of thought, “Wanna hang out tommorow?”  
“I'm working.”  
“Do I get a free slushie if I stop by?”  
“Why would I do that?”  
“Cause I'm your best friend? Who you looooove?” He's batting his stupid eyelashes. That shouldn't be endearing.  
“Debatable. I'll think about it.”  
“I'll take that as sí, te amo.” His pronunciation makes it sound like ‘see, te ahmo’ but Luna lets him get away with it.  
“You do that. Catch you later, graffiti gringo.” Pete salutes her before he speaks,  
“See ya, sunshine.” And just like that he's up on somebody's wall, off to find somewhere to paint. Luna turns away from where he was, still with a little smile on her face. 

She makes it up the stairs and into Tía Luz and Tío Miguel's apartment with seconds to spare, in fact she gets in the door so fast that she nearly knocks over Abuela Claudia. “¿Ay, que pasa?¿Por qué tan rápido?” Luna blushes and shrugs,  
“Soy lo siento, Abuela.”  
“Es nada. Pero, next time watch out for your Abuela, querida.” Abuela smiles and pats Luna's shoulder.  
“I will!”  
“Bueno. How was Nina's Español lesson?”  
“Great, she just needs to learn tenses better.”  
“Easier said than done, mija.” Luna nods.  
“Are Luz and Miguel up?”  
“Si. In their room. Go say hi, cheer them up. I'll get your dinner ready.” 

Visiting Luz and Miguel was fairly uneventful. Tío had fallen asleep so Luna had to whisper everything she had done that day to Luz because Luz wasn't strong enough to go into the other room. After a while Luz fell asleep too and Luna sat and watched her. It was just a cold, Abuela said, a cold and the stress from running the bodega. Luna knows better. A cold and stress doesn't mean five days bed rest and being unable to function. A cold and stress doesn't mean late night family meetings which Luna isn't invited to where Usnavi Mami and Abuela talk in hushed voices about hospital funds and loans and medication. Luna knows they're keeping information from her, but she also knows how to pick her battles. She'll leave it for now. Anyway, Usnavi knows she's not stupid enough to remain oblivious to the situation. Just as she thinks that the sound of a key in the front door echoes through the apartment, Luna takes that as her cue to run to the door, (because even if she is ‘blossoming’ she can still run and hug her cousin/favourite person when he gets back from work, right?)

As soon as he's through the door of his parents’ home Usnavi is hit in the chest by what could either be a hug from his kid cousin or the first move in a pro wrestling match, either way it's nice to have someone so excited for him to get home. He grins down at Luna once she finally lets go of him and musses her hair a bit, she hisses indignantly and tries to duck away.  
“Careful, that took Nina ages to do!”  
“Oh, Nina did it? ¿Por que? Who you dressing up for, cuz?” He nudges her and smirks and she sticks her tongue out at him.  
“Nobody! Why? Do you want tips so you can impress Vanessa?” That shuts him up along with making him turn bright red.  
“W-why would I want that?”  
“Cause you looooove her. Dani told me. And Yolanda. And Carla.” The last two had technically never told her, but they were present when Dani whispered the gossip to Luna while Vanessa was in the back room, so it wasn't exactly a sin include them in the list.  
“They did? Do they know if sh- Hey, why should I believe you?”  
“Cause I'm a very trustworthy person!”  
“Seguro-”, a shadow suddenly crossed his face, “-how're my folks? You seen them today?”  
“They sleeping right now. Go see ‘em later. Abuela’s makin’ food, want some?” Usnavi tried to disguise an involuntary shiver and nodded,  
“Let's go see what it is.”

Dinner was pinto frijoles y arroz and Luna said grace without messing up any of the last lines like she usually did. Usnavi told a story about a girl who had come into the bodega and refused to leave until he had scoured the place from top to bottom in search of another packet of oreos, which made Luna laugh so hard she nearly spit out her soda. Abuela told a story about cousin Ceci in Cuba who always takes half a suitcase full of oreos with her on the plane home from the US. Luna stayed quiet until Usnavi asked if she knew what time Mami would be done at work. Luna didn't know. Mami had been gone long before she woke up that morning. Usnavi nodded and said that she could stay over for the night, no hassle. He said that as if it hadn't been a regular occurrence since Luna and Ciela had arrived from DR when Luna was five. Luna loved staying with her family, sure, but she missed her Mami sometimes. 

The rest of the evening would've gone without a hitch if only there was some magical way to get dressed without taking your clothes off. Luna changed in the bathroom, in front of the mirror. She looked straight at her topless self and suddenly felt violently sick. It was like somebody had stuck her head onto a body that was not her own. She shut her eyes and finished changing, said goodnight to her family and got into her blow up bed in Usnavi’s room, all the while with the punching feeling all over her body, before falling into a tumultuous slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah!! This chapter introduces Usnavi's parents who are a little unwell currently :( I couldn't find canon names for them so I used my tío and tía's names lmao. Hope you liked.


	3. Muchachos Serán Muchachos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for Street harassment, sexual harassment and homophobic language in this chapter!!! Stay safe lads!!

Exactly a week later Luna has barely gotten a block away from her school when she hears extremely loud and unfamiliar whistling. She looks across the road and sees a group of boys Usnavi’s age sitting on a doorstep, clutching cans of something which is definitely not soda and with their eyes fixed on her as she walks. There's another whistle, and then the shouting begins: “¡Ay, mami! Ay chica, where's your boyfriend? Yo, we talkin’ to you niña! You deaf?” Luna pretends not to hear. Once they get to “¡Nos muestran su tetas!” She picks up her pace. Suddenly one of them hurls a beer can across the street at her. It hits her leg and splatters foul-smelling liquid all over her jeans. Fuck they're not her jeans! They're leggings, borrowed from Nina! Now Nina will hate her and not want to hang out with her and its all these cabrones’ fault! Her blood bolis as she straightens her spine and turns to face them. She hates how high her voice is when she yells out “¡Vete a la mierda y morir, usted coños!” The the boys are struck dumb for a moment, and Luna takes that moment to get running. The guy who threw the beer has stands up, yells “You fucking tortillera! Piece of shit dyke! ¡Gorda puta!” And throws another keg after her. It hits her in the shoulder. She keeps running, face turned away from them so they can't see that she's on the verge of tears. 

 

Luna runs and runs until she gets to the window of the dispatch, which she takes the opportunity to jump through. She narrowly misses landing on Kevin, who jumps a foot out of his chair at the sight on a partially-soaked mussy-haired teenage girl vaulting through his window. She mumbles an apology and he tries to keep the fond off his face. There's a little smalltalk before Luna asks what she really wants to know: “es Nina en?”  
"Sí, piso superior. Ella necesita ayuda con los verbos de nuevo.”  
“¡Que puedo hacer que!” Luna turns to go upstairs.  
“¿Ay, y Luna?”  
“¿Sí, tío?”  
“Próxima vez el uso de la puerta.” She fakes a smile,  
“Sí, tío.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this one's so short, lads. The next is gonna be veeeery long, so I hope that makes up for it :)


	4. "...get up. Someone's expecting you."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for mentions of sexual harassment and homophobic slurs in this chapter, as well as severe dysphoria and panic attacks.

Luna's legs feel awfully shaky as she scales the stairs. She doesn't know why she let those boys get to her. Tonta, she thinks, you let them win. There's a painful lump in her throat and she can feel tears welling in her eyes. She catches a glance of her reflection in the glass of a picture hanging on the wall and instantly feels even worse. Her hair's a mess, her eyes are red and her damp shirt is sticking to her shoulder. She shakes her head and looks away from her reflection, keeps moving on up. 

Once Luna's at the top of the stairs she knocks on the door of Nina's room tentatively, “yeah?” She feels worse for hearing Nina's voice.  
“S’just me.” There's the sound of speedy footsteps and Nina opens the door.  
“Oh hi Lu-Ay dios! ¿Que pasa?” Nina looks horrified. Luna starts crying in earnest. She feels pathetic, she's thirteen and far too old to be crying in front of her babysitter. Nina clicks her teeth sympathetically and puts her arm around Luna's shoulders, stroking slow circles on her back and leading her to sit on Nina's bed.

Once they're both seated Nina tentatively asks again: “¿Que pasa?” Luna wipes her eyes and mumbles,  
“Stupid boys. Calling me a maricon. Throwing shit at me.” Nina is outraged.  
“Ay mis dios. ¿Por que?” Luna's voice is even quieter when she speaks again:  
“They told me to do… Stuff and I told them to die.”  
“And right you should. You should tell the policía.”  
“What do the policía ever do? If they won't even fine a guy for grabbing Vanessa then what makes you think they'll do anything for me?” She sounds way too bitter for her age and she hates it. Nina is less assertive, more soft next time she speaks:  
“... Maybe we stay away from the police then. But still, we tell your familia?” That makes Luna's eyes widen. She shakes her head violently.  
“No. Por favor, Nina, they're already so stressed ‘bout Luz and Miguel, they don't need this.”  
“Pero-” -Luna cuts her off and locks eyes with her-  
“-Pero nada. Promise me you won't tell them, Nina. Please.” Nina has begun to feel a little tearful herself. Luna, the baby of the barrio, the youngest and the sweetest and the purest, refusing to tell the police or her family that she was harassed? Luna being harassed period? It's too much. Nina hugs her close and whispers “I won't tell them. For now. I promise.” That just seems to make Luna cry more.  
“Gracias. Y soy lo siento, those putas got beer on your leggings.”  
“That's okay. God invented washing machines for a reason, sí?”  
“Sí.”  
“Now let's get you cleaned up.” Luna nods docilely and lets Nina hand her clean shorts and a t-shirt. She changes quickly in the bathroom with the lights off, trying not to think about what the darkness is hiding. Of course, the effort has the opposite effect. It's like she's flying away from her body while exclusively thinking about her body. She wants to turn the light on and walk out but it feels like her feet are weighted. All she can think about is how those boys saw her and thought girl. How every single day hundreds of strangers see her and see a girl. How her whole family see her as a girl. She feels sick. The darkness is somehow moving before her eyes, moving up and toward her, down her throat, she feels like she's suffocating she can't breathe, she-

She can vaguely hear a banging on the door. She can vaguely hear someone shouting her name. She's sitting on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor with her back pressed against the wall. She doesn't remember sitting down. Her back and legs hurt, did she fall? She doesn't remember. Why won't whoever it is stop yelling? Everything is so dark. She's scared. Why is she like this? Why can't she just get up and go to the door? Somebody's calling. Get up, Luna, she thinks. Get up, somebody's expecting you. Why should she get up? Whoever's outside is going to see her as a girl. Why does she mind if they see her as a girl? What's wrong with her? Why-

The door bursts open and light floods the room. Luna shuts her eyes and manages a short breath in. Suddenly someone's directly in front of her, she opens her eyes and it's Nina, asking her something in English. English. Luna knows English, but right now she can't concentrate enough to translate. Thankfully, the next time Nina speaks it's in Spanish: “Luna, te necesito para escuchar a mí.” Her voice is level and steady. It's almost calming. Luna nods to show that, despite the fact that she feels like she's dying, her ears are functional. Once she does Nina speaks again “Bueno. Usted está teniendo un ataque de pánico. Usted necesita para respirar.” She begins counting up to ten in Spanish, slow and steady. It's weirdly calming. Luna breathes in time to the steady pace of the numbers and it's like she's being pulled slowly back to earth. On about the fifth repeat she manages to count along with Nina in a small, shaky voice. Nina gives her an encouraging smile and they keep going until Luna's breathing is steady, her voice is stronger and her head is mostly clear. Luna murmurs her thanks and Nina shakes her head dismissively. There's a strange, almost awkward silence before Nina speaks again, in English this time, “so are you gonna tell me what that was about?” Luna's stomach sinks. She can't tell Nina. She can't. But she also can't lie. She takes one more deep breath before she speaks:  
“I was thinking ‘bout how… About how… I don't know how to say it.” She knows exactly how to say it. Yo no soy una niña. She can't do it. She's shaking again. Nina looks so worried and that just makes Luna feel worse. That's what forces it out of her. She blurts out: “I hate being a girl.” Nina laughs,  
“Ay, we all do sometimes! Is that it?”  
“No, you don't get it. I hate being called Luna, I hate being called she and her or ella y su. I hate having long hair and wearing dresses and having… Y'know…” She quickly gestures to the parts of her body from the neck down and then continues speaking, “I don't know what's wrong with me.” Once she's done her shoulders slump and she stares at her lap. Nina processes everything for a second then speaks in a surprisingly subdued voice: “I think I do.” Luna's pretty shocked.  
“Really?”  
“Yeah, lemme just-” 

Nina gets up and dashes back into her room and comes back seconds later with a book. She sits back down in front of Luna and begins leafing through it. Eventually she gets to the page she was looking for and hands the book to Luna. The page title is ‘Beyond The Binary: The Transgender Revolution.’ Luna can feel her heart racing as she reads, it's an article about a boy-no, a girl- who hated boys’ toys and clothes and being called ‘he’ so she got surgery to give her the body parts she should have been born with. The postscript of the article said that a 2002 survey found that there were thousands of trans individuals living in the USA. Luna looks up at Nina, “so you think I'm…. Like those people?” Nina nods.  
“The symptoms match up.” It's a lot to take in.  
“And… You don't mind?” Nina looks shocked.  
“Mind? Cariño, the only thing I mind is you being unhappy!”  
“But it means I'm not like you.”  
“If I lived by that logic I wouldn't speak to my father or Usnavi or Benny or Miguel or any of the boys in the barrio.” Luna suddenly breaks into a grin because ay dios did Nina just refer to her as one of the boys? The burst of euphoria practically forces her-him- to move forward and hug Nina very tightly. Nina laughs lightly and hugs him back. They stay like that for about a minute before Luna mumbles “thank you for listening.”  
“Anytime, mijo.” Mijo. My son. Luna feels like he's glowing until he remembers that this is kind of a big deal.  
“What do I do now?”  
“Right now? You don't have to do anything. But you're gonna have some big choices to make very soon.” Luna nods.  
“I don't know how I'm gonna tell Usnavi. Or Abuela. Or any of the family. I ain't even know if they cool with gay people, let alone… Me!” Nina pauses to think about that and in seconds her eyes light up,  
“Make a trip to the liquor store tomorrow!” Luna squints at her incredulously,  
“No, tonto, talk to José!! Hecame out to everyone a while back, ask him for tips.”  
“Ay, why didn't I think of that?”  
“Cause you're stressed. That can be your first step. Take it slow. You'll be fine.”  
“Thank you, Nina.” Luna wants to say it a million times. His head feels clearer, his body feels lighter, it feels so good to put a name to it. Nina rolls her eyes and shakes her head,  
“Es nada, y- Wait. What's the time?” The time! Fuck! They jump up almost simultaneously and bolt into Nina's room. Seven thirty! Mierda! He was due home two hours ago! Luna grabs his stuff and Nina helps him pack his beer-stained t-shirt into his backpack. She packs the book as well, tells Luna to read it, hugs him again and pushes him out the door before he can think her again.

Luna runs down the stairs and out the door, then speeds up even more as she sprints toward home. His heart is racing and not just from all this sudden physical exertion. He keeps trying to calm himself down, trying to make it less of a big deal in his mind, but it just dawned on him: Nobody else in the barrio is transgender. Even José might not like it. It's new territory. Luna is new territory. He's suddenly scared. He wants to turn back, run back to Nina's tell her she was wrong, he's a girl, everything's just like it was. But he'd be lying. Luna hates lying. His father was a liar, his mother, as much as he loves her, is a liar, so when Luna was very young he promised himself he'd never be a liar. He can't lie, so he keeps running. 

When he gets onto his street he picks up his pace even more, so much more in fact that he fails to notice the person directly in his path. He slams into Usnavi’s back at full speed, which induces a loud, shrill scream from his cousin. Usnavi spins round, ready to throw fists, before recognising the small kid in front of him. “Luna! ¿Dónde has estado?"  
“En la casa de Nina. Haciendo los deberes.” Usnavi lets out a weary sigh.  
“Next time call, por favour. I worry about you, prima, y’know that?” He's giving Luna the overworked single dad look, which as a cousin he shouldn't be able to do. It makes Luna feel guilty nonetheless.  
“I know, I know. Soy lo siento.” He musses Luna's hair and smiles,  
“It's fine. Let's go get you some warm clothes and food, it's getting too cold to be wearing shorts.” Luna nods. As he follows him he watches his face. He looks older than he is. Abuela says it's because he works, which is a fair point, but Luna is sure that he's gained about ten years since Luz and Miguel got ill. Luna wonders how much more he'd age if he knew about Luna being the way he is. The thought of it makes Luna's stomach churn. How on earth is he going to tell him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter... I hope it's OK. I feel like the ending is lacking. I also feel like i should've used 'transsexual' instead of transgender, as that would be more accurate for the time, but to be honest with you I couldn't bring myself to. Ah well. I myself am a trans man, so this fic and especially this chapter really come from my heart I guess? I've never had someone like Nina willing to talk about and understand my gender in my life, and if you're trans and reading this I hope you do and if you don't i hope you know that you deserve someone like that. Thank you for reading.


	5. Consejos De Supervivencia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delicious vintage wish fulfillment. Featuring José, who deserved more of an arc than he got in the canon.

The monday after The Revelation, (as he has dubbed it in his mind) Luna is sitting in homeroom planning his trip to the liquor store after school. It's only a two minute walk from the school and Luna reckons that if he sprints it he can have half an hour to talk to José and still be home in time for dinner. His planning is suddenly interrupted by the sound of his homeroom teacher, Ms. Rostova, screeching her head off: “Miss De La Vega! Are you deaf?” The sudden noise shocks Luna so much that he falls off his chair. The class erupts in laughter as Luna attempts to gather. himself. Ms. Rostova doesn't find it quite as funny, she shakes her head and barks out Luna's name one more time. This time Luna answers: “Here, ma’am.” It makes Luna cringe a little to have to answer to his birth name, but it's the only name he has right now and he has to work with what he's given.

Luna gets out of homeroom with his ego only mildly bruised and mind set on getting to the store. Unfortunately, this may be a little harder to do than he estimated, due to the fact that a tall, dark-haired man with a nasty moustache and an ugly smirk is standing just outside the gate of Luna's school. Shit. Maybe he hasn't noticed me, Luna thinks, however just as he thinks that the man gestures for Luna to come over to where he is, and Luna knows better than to run. Carlos is still smirking as Luna walks to the left until he's standing opposite him. “Ay, don't I get a beso?” Luna represses a shudder, he'd honestly rather kiss a pile of horseshit than this slimy bastard but he grits his teeth, stands on his tiptoes and pecks him on the cheek regardless. He stinks of cheap cologne and his stubble is scratchy and vile. Luna wants to puke. The smirk widens at Luna's semi-disguised revolution.  
“D’you want somethin’?” Luna asks, not really caring if he sounds rude.  
“Sí. Where's ya mamí at?”  
“I ain't know. I hardly live with her weekdays, remember?” Or weekends, these days, Luna thinks. Her mamí works too much. Carlos still looks suspicious.  
“Right. You best be telling the truth.”  
“I don't lie. She working another shift at the bar, you look there?”  
“Nah. I will. Thanks for the tip off.” He turns to walk away and so does Luna, but suddenly he remembers and calls out: “Carlos?” The man turns back around,  
“Sí?”  
“When you find her, tell her…” Tell her what, Luna thinks. Tell her that her daughter is really her son? Tell her that her only offspring is a freak?  
“... Tell her to call me. Tell her we need to talk.” There's that smirk again.  
“Of course. Anything for mi querida hija.” Ew. She forces a smile, thanks him and walks away. 

She only manages a few more paces before her journey is interrupted again, only admittedly it's by a much more welcome presence. Pete descends from above like an angel in one of Abuela’s Jesus stories, but instead of a divine presence from heaven floating delicately down from the clouds carrying with it the words of the lord he's a sixteen year old vandal jumping off a wall and carrying a rucksack full of God-knows-what. He lands next to Luna with a quizzical expression already on his face. “The fuck was that creep?”  
“That creep is my step dad.” Luna wants to take a picture of Pete's face right after he says that, frame it and title it ‘Oh Shit I Fucked Up, oil on canvas, 2006’. Pete stutters for a bit before he speaks “I-uh-you know I-didn’t mean nothin’ I-if I'd have known I wouldn't-” Luna laughs. Pete is very cute when he's flustered.  
“It's fine, vato, chill. You're right anyways, he's a mega-creep.”  
“Oh. Right. Cool. So what'd he want?”  
“Info on my mom. He don't know where she is.”  
“Shit, man. You worried?”  
“Nah. She's prob’ly just taken on another shift.” Pete nods, then perks up suddenly:  
“Wanna go chill in Bennett Park?”  
“Can't, sorry. I'm goin’ to the liquor store.” Pete looks a little shocked,  
“The liquor store?! Didn't have you down as a drinker, kid, however if you do need a fake ID-” ,Luna stops him,  
“Don't say nothing that could and would be held against you in a court of law. I'm just going over there to see José.” Pete smiles kinda sheepishly.  
“Oh. Okay. Will I see you later?” This time is smile is actually pretty charming. Luna finds himself blushing. Just a little bit.  
“Whatever I say I know I'll see you anyways.”  
“True. See you then.” He waves goodbye as Pete disappears down an alleyway. The butterflies are back, fucking shit up in his stomach. Stupid butterflies. Luna turns his focus back to the task at hand, he need to pick up the pace as his encounters with Carlos and Pete have cost him about twenty minutes. He breaks into a steady run down the street his school is on before turning onto the high street and soon finding himself outside the liquor store.

Luna takes a deep breath and pushes the heavy door open. The last time he was in here was years ago, before the barrio found out about José, mamí had been working at the restaurant next door and on weekends she'd leave Luna, who must've been about seven, with José for a couple hours while she worked. Luna loved hanging out in the store, José would play songs from Broadway shows and dance around with him while lipsyncing to whatever song was playing. Luna's favourite was a boy like that from West Side Story because he knew all the words too, which meant that they could do passionate performances of it with Luna as Maria and José with his hair tied in pigtails as a deep-voiced Anita. Luna had only been nine when the community found out about José, but he remembers the uproar. The barrio is almost 100% Catholic, so it was a big deal. When Luna has asked his mother if what Padre Santiago at the church said about Jesus disapproving of men who lie with men was true Mamí told him: ‘Lulu, if the lord hated the gays so much he'd smite ‘em, and do you see your tío José up in flames?’ Luna shook his head and mamí said ‘there's your answer.’ He feels warm remembering that.

A small bell rings as Luna walks through the door and a voice echoes around the racks of bottles: “¡Buenas tardes!” Luna grins and calls back,  
“¡Hola, José!” There's a gasp from behind a stack of whiskey and José Mendoza suddenly appears, grinning and with arms outstretched.  
“Luna De La Vega! Where you been, baby girl?!” Luna hides a little shudder at the term of endearment and steps forward so that José can pull her into a tight, warm hug. He holds onto Luna for a few moments before gently moving him to an arm's length away so he can look Luna up and down, “look who's all grown up! ¿Cuantos años tienes?”  
“Fourteen in three weeks!” José melodramatically grasps at his own heart.  
“Fourteen! Imagine. So, to what do I owe this pleasure? And don't tell me you wantin’ booze unless you wanna be thrown out the window.”  
“I'm not after booze today, don't worry. I just need some advice.” José looks thrilled.  
“Advice? I'm great at advice! Let's talk in the front room.” He swings the sign on the door around so it reads ‘closed’ to the public and beckons for Luna to follow him through a door, up some stairs and into the front room of his apartment. 

The room is warm and cosy and a lot cleaner than when Luna was last there. New couches have been installed as well as some cool looking speakers which are quietly playing ‘maybe this time’ from Cabaret. José asks if he wants a drink, which Luna politely refuses. They both sit down on one of the couches and José rubs his hands together, clearly excited at the prospect of being the advice-giver. “So, tell tío José what's up.” Luna instantly freezes up, “w-well, there's-uh- There's something I- I figured you know how to- I-” spit it out, Luna, he thinks, “I-I need coming out advice, okay?” José lets out another melodramatic gasp, except this time it's a little more screech than gasp. Luna doesn't even have time to think that he might not be pleased as within milliseconds Luna is once again having the living daylights hugged out of him. 

They hug for what feels like an eternity and when they break apart José is clearly a little misty-eyed. The next time he speaks his voice is quieter than Luna's ever heard it: “I always knew you had a crush on Nina Rosario.” They both burst out laughing and Luna swats him with a throw pillow in a feeble attempt at shutting him up. “Was I right?” José asks expectantly. Luna can't lie to him,  
“Maybe a little.” José is ecstatic.  
“This is a great day. Imagine Ciela De La Vega’s daughter turning out gay! What a life.” Oh. That's a minor detail. Luna has to tell him.  
“José?”  
“Sí?”  
“I'm not gay.”  
“Oh? So you bi? That's chill, y'know I heard that-”  
“-No, José, I'm- I'm- I'm transgender. Transsexual. Whatever you wanna call it. I'm a boy.” That's the first time he's said that out loud. Ay dios. There's a cold, empty silence. Luna is scared. 

José takes a deep breath and then speaks,  
“How long have you known?”  
“I only found out the word for it a week and a half ago, but I've been feelin’ like something is wrong for years.” José nods with a sad smile.  
“That's a big weight to carry on such small shoulders, sí?” Luna makes an affirmative noise. José pulls him into another quick hug before speaking again, “so do you want me to call you a different name?” Luna shakes his head,  
“I haven't thought of one yet. I thought I should tell Mamí and Abuela and Usnavi first, then they could help me pick. That's why I came to you.” José’s smile is back now.  
“Well you came to the right place, kid. Obviously I've never come out as trans to anyone, but it's the same kettle of fish if you get what I mean.” Luna nods. He wonders if he should've brought a notebook with him. José keeps talking, “it's different for every person so you gotta consider them all separately. Your mamí, Abuela Claudia and Usnavi, are those the people you wanna tell first?” Luna nods,  
“Yeah, them and-uh- Pete. My best friend.” José claps as if he's about to begin some laborious manual labour:  
“Right, those four. Let's start with your mama: would I be correct in saying that she's pretty open-minded?” Luna thinks. Thinks of her Mamí. Mamí, recounting stories from her days of fighting for women's rights back in DR to Luna. Mamí, shutting Kevin down when he made a weird comment about a black kid who came into the dispatch. Mamí, telling Luna that Jesus loves gay people. Luna nods. José grins,  
“I thought so! So it'd be safe to bet that she'd be okay with it, sí?” Luna half-smiles,  
“Sí, pero… Sometimes it's different when it's your own kid.”  
“True, pero you gotta remember that when it comes down to brass tacks she's your mom and she'll always love you, no matter what. My mom wasn't best pleased when I told her, she just needs time to accept it.” That makes Luna feel a bit better, despite the voice in his head screaming ‘it's been five years and José’s mom still hasn't accepted it! You don't wanna wait that long!’ José’s still talking,  
“It’s the same with Usnavi. The day that boy doesn't love you with every fibre of his being is the day that the rapture comes. Same with Abuela in fact, but it's gonna be hard for her remember to use the right name and pronouns and probably just to grasp the concept, but in the end she's always just gonna want you to be happy, am I correct?” Luna quickly thinks about Abuela and her smile and her laugh and how she's always tried to help Luna with his homework and let him tell her all his intricate political ideas and fully supported him even when she didn't fully understand and Jesus Christ José just might be right.  
“Finally, your friend Pete. D’you think he knows what being trans is?” Luna thinks for a moment, back to when he had to explain to Pete what the patriarchy is.  
“I don't think so.” It's no fault of Pete's. Without Mamí Luna doubts he'd ever have known what feminism is. It's not something they teach in middle school in the heights.  
“Okay. I think you should start by coming out to him. Say ‘Pete, I'm transgender. That means that my gender, which is what's in my head, is different to my gender, which is what I was born with. I identify as male so please refer to me by male pronouns.’ And then say something like ‘if you don't like that we don't have to be friends.’ It sounds harsh but it's better to get it done fast, like ripping of a bandaid.” Luna nods, but he feels a little sick. What if Pete doesn't like it? Luna doesn't wanna think about it. He doesn't wanna imagine a life without Pete's smiles and whistles and anecdotes. It makes him shiver. José notices.  
“It's never gonna be easy, poco vato. But it's gotta be done, right?”  
“Right.” José pauses, then speaks again with a lot more solemnity:  
“And Lu? If anything does go wrong… There’ll always be a couch to sleep on and a musical to watch here, okay?” This time it's Luna's turn to get misty-eyed and hug José. He mumbles his thanks into José’s shirt and there's a moment of peaceful silence. 

After a few minutes of that silence Luna pulls away. “I should get gone. You have customers and I have a cousin with a tendency to preocuparse acerca de mí.” José hums in agreement,  
“True. Drop in and tell me how all this coming out goes sometime?”  
“I'll do that. Thanks again, José.”  
“Es nada. We gotta stick together.” Luna nods and gets up. Once they're done saying goodbye and José’s waved him away Luna checks the time. He has twenty minutes to get home, that's way more time than he needs. Everything feels good. Coming out will be okay. He can do this.


	6. "No empuje me..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> intoducing ciela de la vega. she's a queen y'all.

Luna saunters up the stairs leading up to Luz and Miguel’s flat with time to spare. As he walks up to the door of the apartment he notices a small yellow piece of paper stuck on it. Upon closer inspection he realises that his name is written of it in Usnavi's sloping handwriting. He pulls it off the door, flips it over and reads the back. It says: ‘Luna, tu mamí got off work early today! She told me to tell you to go home once ur back go straight home bc she gonna make dinner and stuff. Have fun, see you tomorrow, mucho amor,’ and then a drawing of a boat on some water. Luna laughs quietly and turns away from the door, pocketing the note. He's excited to see his mom, to talk to her properly. Since they got to New York he's really only gotten to spend real time with her on Sundays, holy days, long weekends and rare occasions where she has a proper day off. Often when she does have a day off she's way too tired to do proper ‘mom stuff’, instead she just sleeps and Luna brings her food and reads the paper to her. As odd as their setup may be, Luna wouldn't change it for the world. He's of the humble opinion that he has the most amazing mamí in the world. 

Luna's just thinking that as he reaches the door of the smallish two bedroom apartment with ‘DE LA VEGA” printed across the letterbox which he's lived in part time for the last eight years. He gets his key, opens the door and is instantly assaulted by three things: the smell of Chinese food, the sound of loud shouty chicana music and the feel of a crushing hug from his mom. Luna hugs her back just as tight, grinning into her shoulder. Ciela’s accent is heavy as she speaks “¿mija, como estas?” Nobody speaks Spanish like Luna's mom. Luna feels a little calmer just for hearing it.  
“I'm good, mamí, y tu?”  
“I'm great, niña, just great. C'mon, I got takeout!” Mamí pulls Luna into the kitchen, which turns out to be the source of the music, and motions for him to sit down at the table before continuing to heat the food up in their lousy old microwave. Luna hums along to what sounds like an odd punk rock version of la bamba currently being blasted through the flat. Ciela shouts over the music: “so how's school?”  
“Bien! I'm getting straight A’s in everything except history!” Mamí’s eyes narrow,  
“¿Por que?”  
“Porque I'm always arguing with the history teacher.”  
“Oh?”  
“He insists that all women got the right to vote in 1920." Ciela's eyes sparkle.  
“And why is that wrong?”  
“Cause that year only rich white women got the right to vote. True voting equality was achieved by a bill in 1964 which gave all women the right to vote.” Ciela pats Luna on the shoulder, grinning.  
“That's my girl,” ,Luna hides a shudder, “but politics aside, you'll have that grade up by exam time, correct?”  
“Of course, mamí.”  
“Bueno. That's what matters. You got any homework to do?” Dangit. Luna thought she might forget. He was a fool.  
“Sí, mamí. Matematicas.”  
“What kind?”  
“Trigonometry. I was real bad at it at first, pero then Nina explained it. Now I got it.”  
“Fenomenal. You and Nina, hm? Smartest girls en el barrio.” Luna masks a grimace and nods from where he's scribbling away at his work. Mamí walks over and looks over his shoulder, clicking her teeth. “I could never have done that stuff when I was your age. I never applied myself. That's why I went into activism instead of university. That and the fact that my waste of a mother never even tried to save up the money to send me or your tío to college… ” Mamí’s looking into the mid distance with sad eyes. She shakes her head to clear away the bad thoughts, a longstanding habit of hers, and looks over Luna's shoulder at his homework. “Look at that! I couldn't even tell you what half those symbols mean!” There's a note of almost child-like admiration in her voice. She quickly hugs Luna from behind before continuing to heat up food. 

Luna finishes up his trig work after a while and goes to help set the table. He looks over at his mother. There’s a new wrinkle on her forehead and the pink dye that used to brighten up her hair looks oddly faded. Her hands are calloused from sewing and the exhaustion is easily visible on her face even as she smiles. Luna clears his throat and asks “how was work today?” Ciela sighs.  
“It was fine, mija. I’ve taken another shift on at the bar.”  
“Oh?”  
“Si.” She looks even more tired. Luna bites his lip.  
“Mami… Do you think you might be working a little too hard?” Ciela snorts.  
“Chiquita, I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”  
“Pero-”  
“-Pero nada, Luna. No empuje me.” Her tone is sharp, dismissive. Luna falls silent. They get the food onto the table and sit down. Luna bows his head and puts his hands together and waits for someone to say ‘Bendícenos, ay Padre’, but nobody says anything and when he looks up Ciela is laughing.  
“You gonna say grace for us?” She giggles. Luna blushes scarlet.  
“Lo siento, at tio’s house we do it every meal. I got used to it.” Ciela shakes her head,  
“Of course you do. Miguel never shook that Catholic BS.” Luna bites his tongue. He likes saying grace. He likes how peaceful it is. He likes Abuela’s smile once it’s done and Usnavi messing up the words, but he keeps quiet. Ciela suddenly looks a lot more solem,“How is Miguel? I haven’t seen him for ages.”  
“He’s… Still ill.” Ciela tuts,  
“Luz too?” Luna nods. “Poor things. You should use some of that Catholic BS you’ve picked up to pray for them, Lu.”  
“Do you think they’re gonna be ok?” Ciela looks away like she always does when she’s about to lie,  
“Of course, dulzura. They’ve just got the cold in their chests. Nothing rest won’t fix. Eat your food.” 

They eat in silence for a few minutes before Luna remembers,  
“Carlos met me from school today.” Ciela smiles,  
“Really? Le bendiga! He’s so sweet.” Luna raises an eyebrow.  
“He wanted to know where you were.”  
“Ah. Well he should’ve come here, shouldn’t he? Were you nice to him?”  
“Si, mami. Told him you’d be at the bar.” That’s not a lie, Luna wasn’t outright rude to him.  
“Bueno. I’m glad you’re making an effort with him. He loves me, querida, and I love him, And I want you to love him too. You can’t live your whole childhood without any male role models, it’s damaging, I was reading about it-”, Luna cuts in,  
“-I have male role models! Tio and Usnavi!” Ciela laughs,  
“Your tio y primo? For real? You want them to be your role models? Of course I love them with all my heart, but you should aspire to something more than running a bodega, sweetie.”  
“What’s wrong with running a bodega? Their income is steady.”  
“Luna, don’t get mad at me. I’m just saying: Carlos went to college. He’s documented. You should aspire to that.” Luna’s blood is boiling again. He didn’t miss this side of her mami, the side which abandons her morals in favor of being head over heels for creepy Carlos. He wants to scream ‘I’d rather sleep on the steps of the food bank for the rest of my life than be as sleazy and gross as that middle class asshole’ but he doesn’t. He pushes his feelings deep down, locks it up and throws away the key. Once he’s done that he finds himself a lot calmer.  
“Sure. College. Documentation. Those are my life goals anyways.” Ciela grins,  
“Good- Oh! Luna! Guess what I got today!”  
“Que?” Ciela rummages around in her bag and pulls out her wallet,  
“Get the jar!” Luna smiles, jumps up, jogs into her room and opens her closet. Under a few old shirts is a foot high jar decorated with glitter and sharpies with ‘LUNA COLLEGE FUND!!’ Written on it in block capitals. They’ve had it since Luna was born, Ciela loves to tell the story of the first twenty peso note she ever earned after Luna’s birth and how it went straight into the jar. It’s half full, mostly made up of twenties and tens and an $100 bill Luna found on a sidewalk when he was seven. Luna carries it into the kitchen as if it were a baby and gently sets it down on the table. Ciela gets two or three tens out of her wallet and quickly shoves them into the jar, still grinning widely. “They gave me those for taking on the new shift!” Luna can’t help smiling too,  
“That’s awesome, mom. Really brillante.”  
“I thought so too.” Ciela looks so pleased with herself. Luna feels a sudden rush of emotion and hugs his mami very tightly. She laughs, “ay, que pasa? Why the cuddling?” Luna mumbles into her shirt,  
“Thank you, mama.”  
“For what?” Working so hard. Trying to give Luna a normal life. Trying to protect her. Saving money she should be using for herself for Luna to get a good education.  
“Lots of stuff.” Ciela kisses the top of his head. Luna feels sick. He’s going to let her down. Somehow, he knows it. Whether it be because he’s a boy or because he’s not as smart as she thinks, it’s going to happen. He can’t come out to her. Not yet. 

They break apart and sit eating a little while longer, then Ciela kisses him goodnight. It’s only nine, but she has to be up at three. Luna stays sitting in the kitchen, thinking. After his talk with Jose he’s so ready to come out, but after talking to mami he’s so much more averse to coming out to his family. A slightly Jose-like voice in his head tells him ‘so come out to Pete! Do it tomorrow! Didn’t Jose say he’d be the most receptive? Didn’t he! You can do it, vato!’ The voice in his head has never been that positive before. It’s new. He straightens his spine a little and looks out of the window. The darkening winter sky seems clearer. Tomorrow he’s going to come out to Pete. He can do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not. entirely happy with this chapter but ok. next chapter is gonna be a lotta fun. btw i've gotten so much positivity about this fic and it makes me so happy thank you all so so much i can't express fully how much it means im a mess


	7. Aquí Viene El Sol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter,,, is soft,,,

The next day Luna’s sitting on a bench in the park, wrapped up in an old blue bomber jacket of Usnavi’s and a big hand knitted scarf which Abuela came all the way to Ciela and Luna’s apartment before school this morning to give him. The November weather is cold enough that he can see his breath and his ears are pink and cold. Pete’s late. Luna’s nervous. He’s written down what Jose said to say in red gel pen on a small bit of paper, learnt it off by heart during the school day and is now reciting it over and over in his mind. ‘Pete, I’m transgender. That means my gender, which is what’s in my head, is different to my sex, which is what I was born with. I’m a boy and I’d appreciate it if you used he and him pronouns for me. If you don’t wanna then we don’t have to be friends.’ He doesn’t want to say the last part out loud. He keeps thinking about losing Pete. Pete, who used to chase of the white kids who made fun of Luna’s hair. Pete, who walks Luna to school every day rain or shine and knows exactly how to cheer him up or calm him down. Pete, who understands Luna better than most of Luna’s family. His stomach is in knots. He can’t do this, but he knows he’d feel worse if he backed down. He wishes Pete would fucking turn up already. He wishes-

Someone pulls Luna’s scarf over his eyes suddenly and he lets out a decidedly unmanly screech. He spins around and glares at Pete, who is trying to disguise his laughter. It’s not working. Luna sticks his tongue out at him, ‘¡usted pinchazo!”  
“Hey, no cussing me out in languages I don’t understand!” Luna laughs. Pete sits down next to him and Luna changes his stance to be a little more like Pete’s. More masculine. He feels a little more confident already. They sit in a comfortable silence for a little while, watching the trees blow in the winter breeze. Pete mumbles “If I had a canvas I’d paint this.”  
“What?”  
“The trees. The frost. It’s like somethin’ outta a picture book.” Luna nods, then grins when an idea strikes him.  
“Let’s go into town this weekend! You can buy canvases and I can buy books!” Why did he say that. Why is he making plans with someone who might want nothing of him after today. Pete tries to disguise the way his eyes light up.  
“Sounds good.” Luna realises that he’s biting his lip, and that Pete has noticed that he’s biting his lip. Shit. Pete knows that Luna only bites his lip when he’s worrying. “Lu?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Is somethin’ up?” Here goes.  
“Uh- yeah, actually.” Pete raises an eyebrow and Luna clears his throat. “I gotta tell you somethin’, but-um- It’s kinda hard to-” His breathing is speeding up. Fuck. He can’t hyperventilate right now. The Jose-like voice of reason is back ‘remember what you wrote! You just have to say that! You can do this!’ He can do this. Luna takes a deep breath. “Pete, I’m transgender. That means my gender, w-which is what’s in my head, is different to my sex, which is what I was born with. I’m a boy and it'd be good if you used he ‘n him pronouns for me. If you don’t wanna then we-we don’t gotta be friends n-no more.” Luna's shaking. His whole body is shaking. He's dying. Ay dios he's actually dying. Pete's face betrays no emotion. Luna's dying. Pete hates him. Pete thinks he's a freak. Oh Jesus, why did he have to tell him. 

Luna's staring at the ground, eyes open and not seeing, so wrapped up in his own terrifying thoughts that when Pete says “how long you been rehearsing that for?” It makes Luna jump. It takes him a while to process the question, but then he speaks in a shaky, quiet voice:  
“All day, if m’honest.” Luna's still looking down, not making eye contact, but he swears he can hear the smile in Pete's voice when he speaks again:  
“Thought so. You were doing y’public speaking voice.” Was that affectionate? Is he actually talking to Luna like he would normally?  
“Oh, I- Hah.” It's not really a laugh, more of a drained gasp. Luna cautiously looks up at Pete. He’s looking at him. Pete’s expression is an odd mix of emotions. Happy? Sad? Nervous? Luna can’t read it. When Pete speaks his voice is quiet like Luna’s, but a little stronger.  
“So, you’re a guy?”  
“Seems so.” Pete nods. His brow is furrowed in concentration.  
“So… If I was talking about you I’d say Luna’s my friend, he’s thirteen, he’s kinda short-?” A rush of warmth speeds through Luna’s body.  
“Yeah! But-um- I gotta do something about being called Luna, y’know? Ain’t no Dominican boys called Luna.” Pete nods again,  
“Luno?” Luna snorts.  
“That’s straight up not a name, vato. I though Luis?” Pete makes a gagging noise.  
“Luis is a greasy middle-age banker in a suit.” Luna actually smiles.  
“True.”  
“You got a middle name?”  
“Paloma.” His mother’s mother’s name. He’s never thought of her as his abuela.  
“Can’t do much with that, right?”  
“Nah.” There’s a meditative silence. Luna is grinning like a hyena. This feels too good to be true. Wait, is it true? He has to check. “So… You ain’t gotta problem with it?” Pete snorts,  
“Yeah, kid, I do. That’s why I’m helping y’pick a name out.” And for once Luna actually laughs at Pete’s stupid sarcasm. Pete laughs too, even though it wasn’t remarkably funny. Luna’s laughter becomes hysterical. Pete doesn’t mind! He’s safe! He feels like another weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

They sit, both still grinning, in silence for a few more moments before Luna snaps his fingers,  
“Sonny!”  
“Y’what?”  
“Sonny is short for anything! When people’s parents ain’t decided on a name for they kid, they call it Sonny!” Luna is freaking out inside. It’s perfect. Pete raises an eyebrow.  
“So that’d be… A place-holdin’ name?”  
“Yeah! Try it!” Pete mumbles something affirmative and gestures at Luna with flourish.  
“This is Sonny! He’s a kid I know. He’s short ‘n he lives with his crazy family. That enough?” Pete looks over at Lu-Sonny, who has a smile a mile wide. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Sonny nods, still beaming. Pete pokes his arm with no real force, “Sonny. Dude, Stop grinnin’ like it’s christmas squared, I got a rep to keep uphold.” Sonny does not stop grinning.  
“Fuck your rep, m’happy.” Pete goes to speak, then stops himself, pauses, then finally speaks-  
“...Good.”

Snow has begun to fall. The frozen trees have stopped swaying in the breeze. A pastel sunset is spreading over the New York City skyline. Sonny and Pete stay sat on that bench for a long time, saying nothing, not moving, just staring up at the sunset as it bathes the city in rose gold light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i almost feel like i could end it here? should i? or do you want further coming out and development? let me know in the comments xx


	8. "¿Ella merece un hogar, no?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw for domestic issues in this chapter x

It’s a Thursday. Sonny despises Thursdays. Thursdays involve gym and the girls’ locker room, otherwise known as the ninth level of hell. Gym class today is cross country in the snow, running laps through layers of ice in his worn trainers. Cold feet. Snowflakes on his eyelashes. He wishes he had his stupid scarf right now. Cadence McColl is running next to him, jabbering incessantly about something. Sonny’s tuned out. He tunes back in just as she gets into full swing. She’s ranting about an assassination in Lebanon. Sonny joins in as much as he can while trying to keep up with her long strides. It’s refreshing to match wits with someone, sure, but he’d much rather do it somewhere warm and dry where his feet aren’t half frozen. They keep talking until the whistle goes to signal that times up, then Cadence takes off, sprints all the way to the showers like a fucking gazelle. Sonny is less excited. He wants to just skip the stupid shower, but that’d mean everyone talking about him. They all already think he’s scabby, he mustn't make it worse. He jogs over to the showers.

The air in the changing room showers is thick with the smell of pubescence and strawberry body wash. Sonny feels sick. Luckily, he’s worked out a pretty good method of getting in and out without inducing too much dysphoria or making an ass of himself. He grabs his towel and puts it right next to the door, quickly undresses, stands for five seconds under the shower closest to the entrance, facing the wall, then runs out, covers his whole body in a towel and gets dressed. His body is burning from the quick series of intense temperature changes, but it’s not as bad as the overwhelming reminder of the body he is in. Punches, everywhere. Eugh. And that was only first period? He can’t wait for Thursday to be done. 

Unfortunately, Thursday drags on for what feels like years. Lesson after lesson of dull bullshit that Sonny knows how to do. Even as the only thirteen year old freshman in the school he still feels bored. Apart from in english. In english Cadence and Sonny take on Mr. Jameson over his refusal to acknowledge the homoromantic overtones in ‘the picture of dorian grey’. It ends in Sonny and Cadence being sent to sit outside the principal's office, which is a welcome break. They sit on the hard plastic chairs, impersonating Mr. Jameson and giggling. Cadence is drawing a Jameson-esque moustache on Sonny’s face with her eyebrow pencil when they hear the door to the principal's office open. There is a moment of mutual terrified eye contact, a loud whisper of ‘oh, fuck!’ From Sonny and a panicked attempt at removing the moustache which lands them both on the ground. Sonny shuts his eyes. They are fucked. He’s just accepted his fate when he hears an extremely familiar voice: “¿Yo estoy interrumpiendo algo?” Ah. This is worse. Sonny opens his eyes and looks sheepishly up at Nina Rosario. She has one eyebrow arched and there’s a yellow flower in her hair. Sonny would be crying about how pretty she looks if his levels of embarrassment were not through the roof currently. He tries to regain his powers of speech. It doesn’t work. Cadence breaks the silence:  
“No, sólo algunos experimentación artística.” Oh Cadence. You beautiful bilingual goddess. Sonny has to remember to thank her from the bottom of his heart. Nina laughs. Sonny is still kinda spaced until Nina speaks:  
“You good down there, Lu?” Sonny snaps back to reality and jumps up,  
“Y-yeah! M’good!” He’s trying to regain as much dignity as possible with the mess of makeup on his face. There’s an exchange about what on earth they were doing outside the principal's office respectively, Nina was talking to the guy about college apparently, and she promises she won’t tell Abuela or Usnavi that Sonny got sent out. There’s a litte more small talk and then Nina snaps her fingers:  
“Yo, Lu, you free tonight?”  
“¿Si, por qué?”  
“Wanna get coffee? Not for study group, I feel like we gotta catch up?” Butterflies. Sonny can tell her about his name tonight!  
“S-sure! That’d be macanudo.”  
“Nice. Meet at the bike sheds after school.” Sonny nods, and Nina’s gone in a swish of perfect hair and vanilla body spray. Sonny feels a little dizzy. Cadence pokes him in the arm and wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. Sonny cusses at her in spanish. 

The rest of the day goes a lot faster after that, and before Sonny knows it he’s hanging around by the bike shed, watching the football team smoke as he waits for Nina. One of the boys wave at him, a handsome white boy who looks like he’s called Brad or Brock and has probably used the phrase ‘spanish girls put out’ a few times in his life. Sonny pretends he hasn’t seen him and prays that Brad/Brock isn’t too keen to prove his thesis. Thankfully, just as he’s thinking that Nina appears from the double doors of the school. The flower is still in her hair (how? Is it stuck there? Did she use magic?) and she’s laughing at some joke her friend just told. She waves goodbye to her friends, then takes off in the direction of the bikeshed. She gets over to Sonny, says hi, links his arm and they walk out of the gates together.

They’re walking down the snowy high street with plastic cups of cheap coffee (Sonny actually has hot chocolate, coffee is way too strong for him) when Nina finally gets to“So how’s it all been?”  
“What’s it?”  
“Y’know what I mean! Coming out! Trans existence and everything!”  
“Uh-Good! I took your advice and now I’m out to Jose and Pete!” He smiles at the memories. Nina raises an eyebrow,  
“Wait, Graffiti Pete? With the backpack?” Ah. Small detail. Nina doesn’t know that they’re friend.  
“Si. We’re good friends.”  
“Really now? How does your primo feel ‘bout that? Y tu madre?”  
“They… Don’t know we’re friends. Feel like they wouldn't be thrilled.”  
“I doubt it. Ah well, it’s your choice, not theirs. If I only had the friends my folks would like my group would be tiny.” Tiny in Nina terms, Sonny thinks. She’s popular. Sonny has Pete and Cadence and that’s enough for him, but Nina thrives in big groups. That’s one difference between them. “Anyways, I derailed you, you came out to those two and?”  
“And they’re cool with it! Pete even helped me pick my name!”  
“Oh?”  
“Sonny!” Nina looks at him for a long moment with this odd misty look in her eyes, then nods.  
“Suits you, mijo.” Sonny grins. They keep walking. “So when’re you gonna tell tu familia?” Nina asks. Sonny feels sick at the thought of it.  
“I don’t know. I don’t know how.”  
“You’ll have to introduce the concept first. I doubt they’ve heard of it. Take it slow, I reckon.” Sonny nods dubiously. Nina can tell he doesn’t wanna think about it. They’re passing a thrift store, “Wanna go in?”  
“Sure.”

The thrift store smells like a fridge. And not in a good way. Nina makes a beeline for the books, which Sonny almost does before noticing a sign out of the corner of his eye. It reads ‘mens’ shirt sale: 50% off!’ His heart soars and he speeds over to it. He sifts through the pile of shirts, sometimes holding them up, putting ugly ones straight back down, until he comes to an XL dark green t shirt. It’s a pretty shade of green, abuela always says green is his colour, Sonny goes to try it on. The changing room is about a foot square, but Sonny is very short and pretty damn skinny, so he manages. The mirror is small but he can get a good look at himself. The shirt is about a million sizes too big, which is welcome as it disguises everything. Chest, hips, everything. He feels euphoric. Warm. His shoulders seem broader. He adjusts his posture. Even with his hair, he looks at least twice as masculine. He’s glowing. When he looks in the mirror it’s like he’s glowing. Radiating light. He smiles at himself one last time before changing back into the blue blouse he was wearing with a sigh. 

Nina is waiting when Sonny gets out of the changing room. She points at the shirt in Sonny’s hand: “¿Qué es eso?”  
“A shirt. Boys’ shirt. Makes everything-”, he gestures to his chest, “-a little more boy-ish.”  
“Really? Fenomenal. Now you just need pants and a haircut.”  
“I have a vault of boys’ pants in every size possible, from Usnavi’s various growth spurts. I’m good for pants. The haircut is a different matter.”  
“I could get Dani to-” Sonny cuts her off instantly,  
“No. No, no, no, no. Not in a million years. If Dani finds out then the whole barrio will know within the hour.”  
“Pero Dani is the best at hair!”  
“Pero I don’t want everyone to find out!”  
“Fair point. Can the hair wait?”  
“Sure, for a little bit.”  
“Bueno. You get that shirt, poco sol.” Nina musses his hair and shoos him over to the till. The shirt only costs seventy-five cents. Bless. Thursday is feeling a lot better. 

They walk around for a little longer, talking about stupid school stuff, and then it’s time for Nina to leave for senior studies. She gives Sonny an extremely tight hug and whispers “estoy muy orgullosa de ustedes” in his ear. She’s proud of him. Sonny feels like he’s glowing all over again.  
“¿Por qué es?”  
“Coming out. Being brave. You’re doing great.”  
“Gracias.”  
“De nada. Hasta luego, Sonny.” She’s gone in another flurry of vanilla and curls before Sonny speaks:  
“Chao, Nina.” He walks toward home smiling, excited to tell his mom about a ‘take back the night’ march Nina told him about. Maybe Thursdays aren’t so bad after all.

Half an hour Sonny is sprinting in the opposite direction of his home, taking back every thought he had had previously. He was just a metre away from the door of this mother’s apartment when he first heard mami’s raised voice: “¿cuál es tu problema?” Oh dear. Trouble in paradise. A voice which was greasy it had to be Carlos responded:  
“¡My problem is que quiero proporcionar para usted, not you tú y tu error!” Error? Mistake? Is he-  
“¿Mi error? ¡Mi hija, tu cabron! Say that again and I’m leaving, I swear to fucking God!” Holy shit.  
“¡Ella odia me! You know she does! Let the girl viva con su tío, entonces se puede vivir conmigo y todo el mundo será feliz.” He’s right. Sonny hates him. But Ciela moving in with Carlos? Sonny going away? This is new.  
“Ella no abandona. Nunca.” He breathed a sigh of relief, then hurried closer to the door so he could still hear was happening, even with their newly quieter voices.  
“Tal vez sería mejor, you know what they say about suitcase kids! ¿Ella merece un hogar, no?” Sonny heard his mother sigh. She sounded defeated. Fuck.  
“Si, she does. I just don’t want her to feel like she’s not wanted.” What is that voice? Sonny had never heard his mother use that tone before. Holy fuck.  
“She is wanted! But not everything in your life has to be about her, mi amor.” Ay dios. Sonny’s heart was going at about thirty times it’s usual rate at. He felt sick. He wanted to go home. ‘It won’t be your home for long at this rate’ a voice in his head murmured. He tried to banish the thought. Mami would never give him up, she wouldn’t. He knows that. Does he? It was too much. He turned and ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eek. next one will be better.


	9. Feliz Cumpleaños

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oy vey, it's been a while. I apologise profusely you guys. Hope this one is ok. The

A week later it’s Sonny’s birthday. Why does his birthday have to be on a Thursday? Just his luck. Combined that the fact that it is his first birthday officially not living with his mom and that all his cards will have the wrong name on them, Sonny is pretty sure that this is going to be his worst birthday ever. The day starts with the usual rites of passage, Usnavi wakes Sonny up at six in the morning and punches him in the arm fourteen times (‘birthday bumps’, very important to Usnavi and slightly painful for Sonny but hey, he’ll get his own back next year) before picking him up and shaking him around a bit for good measure. (Sonny won’t be able to get his own back on that one unless he magically grows a few feet in the coming months, which is unlikely, so he settles for kicking Usnavi in the shin.) Abuela makes french toast for breakfast and lets Sonny eat it in front of the TV, a birthday privilege, and by seven forty five Luz and Miguel are lucid enough that they can be helped onto the couch in the living room to watch Sonny open his presents. Sonny receives a giant yellow sweater from abuela which he pretends he hasn’t seen her knitting for the past six months, it’s soft and cosy and so massive that it’ll cover any offensive areas. Sonny is extremely grateful. Usnavi gives him three packets of reese's pieces, some airheads and a weirdly wrapped sphere. On unwrapping the sphere Sonny realises that it is in fact a goldfish bowl containing a goldfish, who Sonny names Us Postal to the delight of everyone except his cousin. Luz and Miguel give him a framed picture of their whole family back in DR in 1997, the year that every other bodega in NYC ran out of bug repellent and Luz and Miguel made such a killing that they had the money to fly back home for the summer. It’s a sweet picture, featuring Ciela, her pink hair luminous and with her arm lazily around her mother, Sonny’s real abuela, Paloma. Beside them are Luz and Miguel, all smiles and no gray hair or worry lines, then a few more tios and tias and their kids and then, in front of everyone, Usnavi, aged twelve and with an atrocious haircut, balancing a three year old Sonny on his hip. Their faces are dirty and their feet are bare and their smiles are miles wide. It’s a great picture. Sonny hugs Luz and Miguel as tight as he can without feeling like he’s going to break them and promises to put it on his bedside table. There’s one more package, a small one wrapped in blue tissue paper with a gold ribbon. From his mami. Sonny wants to throw it out of the window, but instead he shoves it in his backpack, promises to open it at school, thanks everyone again and promptly leaves.

As soon as Sonny gets out of his apartment building his ears are assaulted by a rowdy rendition of ‘cumpleanos feliz’ as sung by about six of the punks who usually hang out in the park. Their accompaniment is a selection of trashcans of various sizes, which they bang out the beat of the song on. Sonny tilts his head back and laughs at their abysmal pronunciation, but still thanks each of them as they grin and wave him goodbye. It’s only a few seconds more walking before Pete shows up, smiling from ear to ear:  
“So?” He asks,  
“What?”  
“So, did ya like the choir I arranged?” Sonny bites back the temptation to call it an anti choir and nods, Pete looks thrilled “I knew you would!” Sonny rolls his eyes and bites back a fond smile. Pete still has more questions: “So how does it feel to be fourteen?”  
“Same as being thirteen.”  
“F’real?”  
“Yeah, why?” Pete shrugs,  
“Dunno. When I turned fourteen it kinda felt like everything had changed.” Sonny nods and they walk in calm, close silence until they get to the school gate, where Pete pulls Sonny into a quick one-armed hug and shoves an envelope into his hands. “Don’t open it here. Can’t have you getting all mushy on me where I can be seen. Happy birthday, sunshine.” Sonny doesn’t have time to thank him before he’s gone and Sonny’s left holding the envelope. Fucking Pete. What a loser.

The morning is fairly uneventful, the most exciting things that happen are Cadence kissing him on both cheeks before she handed him his present of two packets of oreos (it took half an hour for the blush that swept across his face to fade) and the fact that when Sonny opened his locker he was greeted by a large, glitter-covered parcel which is wrapped in so many shades of blue that it must be from Nina. Sonny grins when he sees it, but opts to open it at home later. Other than that it’s a regular tedious Thursday morning. At lunch Sonny sits alone in the library and gets the envelope out of his bag. It’s a little bigger than Sonny’s hand and has the letter S printed on it in yellow pen with a smiley face next to it. Sonny slides it open and pulls out a card with a drawing of a boy on the front. The boy is wearing sneakers, shorts, a baggy shirt and backwards hat. He has short, curly black hair and wide dark eyes. He’s smiling and the way Pete’s drawn him it looks like he’s glowing. With a jolt Sonny realises the boy is him, and the biggest smile he’s worn all day creeps across his face. The Sonny in the picture looks, in a word, amazing. Everything about him is so much more vivid; his freckles are less smudge-y and more sharp, more flattering, his curls are less frizzy and more like little ringlets and something about his stance is more poised, more confident, more masculine. Sonny feels exhilarated. Is that how Pete sees him? He hopes so. He’s so overjoyed that he almost forgets to actually open the card, which he does promptly. The card isn’t very long and Pete’s spiral scrawl is pretty hard to read, but Sonny just about deciphers ‘To Sonny!!! You're the coolest guy i know your my best friend + have a good birthday! frm GP :D’ Sonny quickly hugs the card to his heart and thinks that maybe Pete isn’t such a loser after all.

After receiving the card Sonny flies through the day and it’s almost a surprise when he finds himself sat at the table in Abuela’s apartment with the Rosarios, Daniela, Usnavi, Abuela and Benny. It’s the first barrio dinner Benny’s been too and the poor guy couldn’t look more awkward if he tried. Sonny helped Camila make the asopao, which is freaking delicious if he does say so himself. It reminds Sonny of home and almost doesn’t invoke a pang of guilt in him. He picture his mama and Carlos in their stupid massive apartment twenty minutes away, eating fresh food and indulging in middle class comforts and instantly the guilt is banished. Sonny gathers himself and tries to engage in conversation as best as he can. At the end of the dinner Kevin stands up and first toasts ‘to Luna Paloma de la Vega, each one of her fourteen years have been a blessing to us all’ and then ‘to absent friends and family’. The tug on Sonny’s heart when he hears ‘absent friends and family’ is much worse than the tug at the mention of his birthname. First he thinks of Luz and Miguel, at home and ill, and then of his mother again. He misses her, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, however as he looks around the warm candlelit table at Usnavi and Benny laughing, Nina raising an eyebrow at something Kevin said, Camila swatting her husband in the arm, Daniela in hysterics over the whole thing and Abuela smiling warmly over at Sonny, he can’t help but think that this is just as good. He can get by without his mom for now. For now. 

Sonny is laying in bed at home in his tio’s flat, a little drowsy from all the food he’s eaten, when he remember’s Nina’s present is still in his rucksack. He rolls over, grabs the bag, wrestles the package out of it and begins unwrapping it. Under all the layers of paper is… A big cardboard box. ‘COMING OUT KIT’ is printed on it in black magic marker. Inside is a book titled ‘Pay It No Mind- The Life Of Marsha P. Johnson’, which has a blue sticky note reading ‘give this to navi!’ Stuck on it. There’s also a book called GLBTQ by K Hugel, with a note stuck on it reading ‘the bible for youth like u, according to Jose, also u could get Usnavi to read it?’ Finally there’s a pair of black vans which are definitely not offbrand, hand-me-downs or for girls. The note stuck to them says ‘ok, so these won’t help u come our per sae, but no boy en el barrio would be seen dead without cool shoes and I doubt ur an exception, so these are for you!’ Sonny is glowing. He shoves all of the package except for the Marsha P Johnson book under the bed and waits for Usnavi to get back from paying the bodega supply delivery guy. 

Half an hour later Usnavi stumbles through the door: “sup, birthday girl?” Sonny fake a smile before replying,  
“Not much.” He takes a deep breath before he speaks, more animatedly this time, “yo, check this book!” Usnavi raises an eyebrow,  
“Me? Check out a book? You jokin’?”  
“Nah, c’mon, it's cool! S’about some lady beating up cops in the eighties en nueva york!” Now Usnavi actually looks interested.  
“Fine. I'll read it.” Sonny beams and chucks the book over to him.  
“Brillante, vato.”  
“Seguero. ¿Pero tenemos que dormir ahora, vale?”  
“Si. Buenas noches, ‘navi.”  
“Noches, Lu.” The light is turned off and Sonny turns over with a smile on his face, already calculating. If Usnavi takes a week and a bit then it's conceivable that he could understand the concept of being trans in a week and a bit and therefore Sonny could come out in a week! It feels a bit far fetched, but it's Sonny’s birthday so he permits himself the fantasy and falls asleep still smiling. It really wasn't the worst birthday ever, when he thinks about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't know who Marsha P Johnson was, look her up. Knowing your history gives you power, and also she was just an amazing person. Cool I'm sorry this was shit bye!!


	10. "You ready to go for that drive?..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a short one because shit's gonna hit the fan in the next lmaoooooooo my guys

The Friday after next is December 15th, which is also a very important day in the De La Vega calendar. It’s the day that Miguel normally makes a trip out to Long Island to buy an industrial quantity of supplies from the wholesalers there. It’s an hour and a half’s drive from Long Island, and Kevin usually lends Miguel a minivan for the trip. This year is no different, except for the fact that Miguel is far too fragile to make the journey, so the responsibility falls on Usnavi’s shoulders. It's six pm when he crashes through the door, his hair caked with snow and a scowl that could curdle milk. “Goddamn punks! Who do they think they are?” Sonny holds back a grin.   
“I'm guessing you got caught in your own personal snowstorm?”   
“Sí. Kids these days, right?” Sonny arches an eyebrow. Usnavi flicks his wet coat at Sonny. 

Sonny flips him off before getting up balancing on the edge of his bed to look out of the high window at the snow-covered streets. It still takes his breath away, even after nine long years of life in nyc. Crystals and diamonds. He’s transfixed. He feels like he’s six again, sitting on the windowsill and watching the snow fall as Abuela sings ‘llanto de luna’ from the next room. Or five, landing in new york for the first time, clinging to his mami’s hand and bracing himself against the cold as it bit into his bare skin. Or thirteen, two weeks ago, sobbing on the snow-coated stone steps outside the bodega with soaking shoes and a shattered sense of stability. Snow on the ground. Crystals and diamonds. Snow on the windowsills. Crystals an-

“You ready to go for that drive?” 

“Luna?”

“Kiddo?”

“Are you ready?” 

Sonny is not ready. He doesn’t want to spend two hours in close proximity to the person dearest to him who he is keeping something from. He’s not ready. Man up, he thinks. He takes a deep breath and turns away from the window and toward Usnavi. He forces a smile and nods before speaking: “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen my Gs if you get the reference in this chapter i'll fuckening cry


	11. Alambre Telefónico

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> listen to telephone wire from the musical fun home after reading this. you'll thank me later.

They just got out onto I-495. It’s late and the sun’s going down and the roads aren’t entirely safe so there’s not much traffic. It’s almost peaceful. There’s a tiny, partly-frozen creek running alongside the hard shoulder. The winter wind is whipping through the trees, bending them. Sonny can’t help but feel the childish excitement he always gets during motor journeys, he feels just a little bit like he’s glowing. He’s curled into the big leather seat of the minivan covered in a blanket abuela insisted that he took with him, listening to the hum of the engine. Bliss. 

Whoops. Now he’s aware of the silence. Very aware. Now he feels like he has to break the silence. Fuck. This sucks. It sucks because when the fuck has he ever found it hard to talk to Usnavi? He doesn’t like this at all. He has to break the silence. He has to. Suddenly they both speak at the same time:  
“I rea-”  
“Did y-” They both stop, then laugh awkwardly. Why are things awkward? Stuff is never awkward between them. Sonny looks over at his cousin. Usnavi’s eyes are fixed on the road, on the sunset. He’s expressionless. He knows something is up. Mierda. Sonny pushes his anxiety down and sits up proper. Say something, he thinks. Talk to him. 

“So… Did y’read the book?” Usnavi jolts when Sonny speaks, then briefly looks over at him.  
“Uh- Si. Era bastante genial.”  
“¿Crees que?”  
“Si. She was a buena dama.” Sonny nods and the silence returns. Lookin out the side window Sonny can see the telephone wires which run back down I-495, up I-295 and back into his city. They must run through the heights all well, past the church and the bodega and Pete’s house, past the dispatch and the salon, past the liquor store, past the school, past his mom’s house. His mom. He misses her, though he’s loath to admit it. Ugh. Sonny shakes his head to clear away the bad thoughts, and focuses back on the road. Usnavi clears his throat. Sonny has to make conversation somehow, so he goes with something benign: “How long d’ya think we got left?”  
“A little while. Half an hour at best.”  
“Long enough for me too sleep?” Sonny asks apprehensively.  
“Sure, querida. Dormir.” Sonny smiles a little before sinking back down into the seat, screwing his eyes up and drifting off. 

Half an hour later someone is poking Sonny’s shoulder. “Oye, vato, vamos if you wanna be home before midnight!” He jumps out of the van and runs over to help lift an excessively large industrial quantity of black beans. Sonny looks up and surveys Long Island after hours. He’s never seen it in hours per sae, but after hours its pretty cool. It's a clear winter’s night so he can see all the stars. He wishes he could take a picture for Abuela. Ah well, he’ll do that next year. For now it’s hauling crates and trying to work out how to tell his cousin he’s not all that he seems without freaking him the hell out. It has to be tonight. He has to tell him tonight or he’ll regret it, Sonny can feel it in his bones and his bones never lie to him. 

After what feels like years of hauling Sonny and Usnavi are back in the newly weighted truck, zooming down the highway. It’s so late that the traffic is considerably depleted, so Sonny can see the whole way down the road. He can see the telephone wires stretching into the horizon. Say something, he thinks, talk to him. It’s now or never. They go over a speed bump. Sonny hears a horn honking in the distance. A car up front flashes its lights to show that it’s turning. Say something. Anything. They turn round a steep bend until they reach some traffic lights. They’re on red. Usnavi taps out the beat of some Ella Fitzgerald song on the steering wheel. At the light, Sonny thinks. When the light turns green I’ll tell him. At the light. He can do this. The light turns amber. At the light. At the light. Sonny feels sick. He’s not ready. He can’t-

The light turns green.

“Usnavi?”  
“Mhm?”  
“You know the lady in that book you read?”  
“...Yeah?”  
“She was…”  
“Born a dude?” Wrong phrasing, cuz, Sonny thinks. But hey. He can work with this.  
“Yeah. She was.”  
“I wouldn’t wanna go through that.”  
“Oh?”  
“Seems like so much pain for so little gain.” Not if the mental pain outweighs the physical.  
“Right.” Silence. Girl up, De La Vega. Just tell him. He’s gonna throw up.  
“So… Do your remember when I was seven? And I cried because mami and abuela made me wear a dress?” Usnavi smiles at the memory:  
“Vaguely. You climbed up the fridge to get away from them.” Here he goes:  
“Why do you think I did that?” Usnavi shrugs.  
“We put it down to a regular tantrum.” Sonny inhales as deeply as possible. He has to do this.  
“Usnavi… Since like, five, I guess, I've preferred to wear boys shirts and pants, ‘n felt dumb in dresses, ‘n felt… Things about girls,” he can't look up. He's staring into the horizon, “I've tried to stop it, but I can't. I'm like her. Like the lady in the book. M’not… I'm not a girl.” 

Silence. Total, terrible silence. The air feels too hot. Why does the air feel hot? He's scared. He looks over at Usnavi but his cousin’s face is stone, unreadable. The urge to open the window and let the wind pull him out is intense. His throat feels dry. The air is so hot. He’s so scared. Jesus Christo. Say something, he thinks, talk to me. Say something. Please. Oh Christ. He has to break this silence before he spontaneously combusts. He looks back up at his cousin. Usnavi is biting his lip, still with eyes on the horizon. There’s a crease in his forehead that wasn’t there before. Worry lines. Sonny has to say something. He manages to whisper: “Usnavi?” His voice sounds so high and girly and tiny and he hates it. He hates this silence. Usnavi inhales deeply before he speaks:  
“Do you know why your mami works so hard?” Sonny’s confused.  
“So she doesn't go bankrupt?” Usnavi sighs.  
“Bad example. D’ya know why me ‘n my parents ‘n abuela after you all day and all night instead of letting you run riot out on the street with the other kids of working single moms? Why we make sure you have food and clothes and you’re staying in school?” Sonny doesn’t know how to answer, so he shakes his head. Usnavi sighs. “So you can be happy, Lu. So you don’t gotta struggle like the rest of our family has.” Sonny nods solemnly. Usnavi looks over at him, studies his face. “None of us want you to have to struggle, Luna.”  
“I understand that.”  
“Which is… Which is why I think you should… Reconsider this?”  
“Reconsider?”  
“Think about whether you really think you’re a boy.” Sonny’s blood boils.  
“I don’t think I’m a boy, I am a boy!”  
“Don’t take this the wrong way!”  
“What’s the right way to take it?!”  
“Take it in the way that makes you see I’m trying to help you, cuz! M’trying to stop you doing something you’ll regret, something that’ll make your life hard.” Sonny shuts his mouth and looks down at his feet. Usnavi looks over at him, biting his lip again. “Lu. Please don’t be mad.” Sonny sighs:  
“M’not mad.”  
“I’m saying this stuff because I care about you, you know that?”  
“I know.”  
“Promise me you’ll think about putting this stuff outta your mind?” Tears prick Sonny’s eyes. In many ways this feel worse than if Usnavi had just shouted at him and told him he was wrong. However, Usnavi didn’t necessarily say he had a problem with it, and Sonny thinks maybe he can live with that for now.  
“I’ll think about it.”  
“Gracias. We’ll talk about it tomorrow?”  
“I’d like that.”  
“Bueno. After work?”  
“Cool.” Okay. This he can work with. He can work out something to say tomorrow, something that’ll convince Usnavi that letting him… Be him will help and not hurt his life. He can do this. Tomorrow he will do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok i know usnavi's reaction seems 50000% shitty but I promise everything will be fine


	12. "Wake up..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw for minor blood and major death in this chapter

Tomorrow never comes. Time stops at 3am that morning, when Luz and Miguel De La Vega, after a long and tedious battle with pneumonia, pass away almost perfectly simultaneously. Sonny is awakened by what sounds like something being pushed off a desk. He looks over to Usnavi’s bed. Nobody’s there. He instinctively pads out of the small blue room and into Luz and Miguel’s room, which is painted a warm shade of orange. Right now it’s lit only by candles. Sonny can barely make out the terrible scene in front of him in the half-light, but what he can see is awful. Usnavi is sitting at the bedside, holding his mother’s hand. She’s laying on her back and from afar Sonny would think she was sleeping, but as he gets closer he can see that her eyes are wide open. Glassy. Looking at, but not seeing, her son. It’s terrifying because Luz’s eyes were always so warm. So welcoming. So like home. Now they might as well be painted on. Usnavi is frozen too, staring straight back at her. Sonny feels like he’s moving in slow motion until he remembers that his uncle is on the other side of the bed and he snaps out of it and practically runs around the side of the bed. Miguel is laying face down, his hand on his wife’s arm. Sonny tentatively reaches out and touches his uncle’s shoulder, he whispers: “despiértate, tío.” He whispers it in the exact tone he would every christmas in new york, every birthday, every carnival day. Miguel doesn’t stir. Sonny repeats himself, louder, more clearly, but still nothing happens. He notices a trail of blood coming out of his uncle’s mouth. He notices how cold his shoulder is. He passes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorry


	13. el sol, de tristeza, no mostrará su cabeza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lots of different feelings in this one?

There’s no school for Sonny for the following week. Just sitting on the couch in abuela’s apartment with his hands folded neatly in his lap as people file through, bringing food and condolences and soft touches to Sonny’s face as they pass by. Usnavi sits motionless next to him, not speaking, not moving, not even reacting when people hug him or kiss his cheek. Sonny takes it upon himself to thank people for Usnavi, pressing each person’s hands and whispering ‘gracias’. It either makes whoever he’s thanking cry more or coo over him. He doesn’t enjoy either. Abuela stays with them when she can, trying to get Usnavi to eat something or trying to get Sonny to call his mom. She doesn’t succeed in either. On the fifth day Benny comes to visit. Abuela’s out so Sonny opens the door to him.  
“Hiya, Benny.”  
“Hey Lu. I heard- I’m sorry about- Are you home alone?” Benny must’ve noticed how deafeningly silent the apartment is. Sonny shakes his head,  
“Navi’s in the sitting’ room, but he ain’t talkin’.”  
“Not talking?”  
“He’s in shock or somethin’.”  
“Ah.” There’s an awkward silence. Sonny never knows what to say around Benny. He likes him alot, but he always feels like nine hundred times less masculine around him. That combined with the fact that he’s been wearing a long black mourning skirt for the past days and the all consuming grief he’s feeling is not exactly putting him in the best mood ever. Be hospitable, Sonny, he thinks.  
“Wanna come in? I think we going mass in an hour but you’d be welcome.”  
“Uh- I don’t wanna be a bother, I can just-” Sonny weighs things up quickly in his mind. Either Benny can go and Sonny can feel slightly less awful, or Benny can stay and make Usnavi feel better. Damn it.  
“-Vato. Come in.”

It turns out that Benny is a miracle worker. Seriously, Sonny feels like dragging him out to the vatican and having him sainted by the time he leaves. After half an hour of Benny relentlessly talking at him, Usnavi cracks a tiny sad smile. After another hour, he responds to something Benny says. Just before it’s time to leave for mass, Usnavi eats something. Sonny feels like crying. Abuela arrives home to Usnavi and Benny sitting on the floor eating the tamales that the Acostas from the butchers brought over and making small talk. She mutters the psalm of thanks to herself and whispers ‘somos bendecidos’ to Sonny. Sonny nods in agreement. When Benny gets up to leave abuela hugs him very close and thanks him a million times. He blushes and mutters that it’s no problem. Sonny punches him affercitionaly in the arm and gives him a thumbs up as a thank you. Usnavi just stays sitting on the floor. Sonny sits down next to him as abuela goes to get changed into her clothes for mass. There’s an odd silence and it feels like the mood’s suddenly plummeted again. The last few days have been such a tidal wave of emotions and Sonny is not equipped to deal with it. He looks over at Usnavi for some kind of indication for what to do, but instead he notices how much his cousin looks like Miguel from the side. He cuts his hair in the same way, shaves in the same way, his eyes have the same flicker in them. In that moment of recognition Sonny comes to the realisation that his tio and tia are gone. They’re not coming back. No more Luz chatting with him for hours after school, no more help with his Sunday school homework, no more Miguel sitting at the head of the table saying grace in the almost musical way he always did. No more. All gone. And for the first time since Friday, Sonny bursts into tears. He covers his face with his hands and just sobs. His throat hurts, his face stings, his brain is spinning, he feels like hell. He cries for his aunt and uncle, for his mami, alone without any family to comfort her, for his family back in DR who don’t know yet, for Usnavi who’s lost his parents, for abuela who’s lost a son and daughter, and, he supposes, a little for himself as well. He’s lost the people who took him in and raised him and loved him while under no obligation to. He’s lost his only adult blood family in new york. They’re gone, and Sonny and Usnavi are alone. Well, that’s not entirely true, but he sure feels alone right now. He cries more because he feels alone. He realises that someone’s arm is around his shoulder. He wipes his eyes and looks up, expecting for it to be abuela, but it’s Usnavi. He’s still looking forward but his arm is tight around Sonny and he doesn’t seem to want to let go any time soon. Sonny shifts so he can hug Usnavi properly, and thankfully he recuperates. They sit like that, Sonny’s head on Usnavi’s chest and Usnavi gently stroking his hair, until the words of the crying has subsided enough for Sonny to mumble “I miss them.”  
“Me too, querida.”  
“I’m sorry that it was them.”  
“It’s okay. Es la voluntad de Jesús, I guess.”  
“Doesn’t mean it’s okay.”  
“No, it doesn’t.”  
“Are you gonna be okay?”  
“I think so, nena.”  
“Is it- Can I still stay with you?”  
“Of course!”  
“Gracias.”  
“De nada.” The silence returns after that, but it’s more comfortable, more hopeful. Abuela bustles in, ready to drag Usnavi to mass, but stops when she sees the scene in front of the couch. She flashes a relieved smile before getting them both up and ready for church.

Sonny hasn’t been to Thursday mass at the church on Audubon since Nina’s dog Tobi died when he was seven. It’s packed out and it’s not even the open casket part of proceedings yet. Everyone Sonny knows is there: the Rosarios, Benny and Alma, Vanessa and her mom, Dani Carla and Yolanda, Jose and his parents, Yesenia and Julio, the piraguero and his daughter Lucia, everyone. Sonny is sitting in the front pew with the rest of Luz and Miguel’s immediate family, and as cool as it is to be front pew it kinda sucks because he has to sit with his mami and creepy Carlos. He’s half happy to be near his mother but he also half wants to screech ‘traitor’ at her and run away. He’s being childish but he feels that he’s within his right. Fortunately mass has already begun when she arrives so he doesn’t have to talk to her. As father Hernandez drones on and on Sonny subtly turns and looks behind him. Sitting in the pew right at the back of the church wearing a clean black shirt and smartish black pants is none other than Graffiti Pete. He’s sitting next to a woman with the same face shape and build as him, but with long braided hair and no freckles. Pete’s mom? Pete’s mom. Sitting next to her is a white guy with dark hair and blue eyes. Sonny wouldn’t be able to tell that he was even vaguely related to Pete if it weren’t for the permanently upturned corners of his mouth. He hear’s abuela’s voice in his head telling him not to stare, but he can’t help it. He catches Pete’s eye, and Pete gives him a little sympathetic smile before holding up the rosary he’s got so that Sonny can see it and mouthing ‘sorry-for-your-loss’. Sonny smiles back and mouths ‘gracias’. Pete nods and Sonny turns back around, smiling. His mother looks down at him. Eye contact is made. Her eyes are bright red, she’s clearly been crying for hours, Sonny feels awful the longer he looks at her. He reaches to take her hand, but both her hands are being held by creepy Carlos. She looks down at her hands then at Sonny and pulls her hands out of Carlos’s grip so that she can pull her child into what may be the tightest hug ever. They stay that way as the final hymn begins and new sunlight floods through the stained class windows, united for the first time in months in their grief. The music swells, everyone sings and Sonny feels a sense of real hope. Alabanza, he thinks. Alabanza Jesus we are gonna be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry if this chapter is messy. my best friend's grandmother died yesterday and i am working through it by writing, so this chapter is dedicated to the blessed memory of mrs jane murphy. alabanza a tia jane, thank you.


	14. '...watching the world end...'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sup my dudes,,,, it's been a while, si? lo siento mucho for the wait, i've been having some problems, but im back now with two chapters! in this one i gotta give a trigger warning for extreme gender dysphoria and nightmares!! okay thats done, read up my guys!!!

A month later it's the small hours of the morning and Sonny De La Vega is sitting cross-legged in the middle of his new room at Abuela's place, watching the world end. 

The walls are cracking, the glass of the windows is shattered all around him and some is embedded in his skin, the ceiling has ripped off and above him the sky is black and streaked with lightning. A picture of his mother falls to the floor and shatters. The ground begins to shake. Sonny sees the giant cracks speeding toward him, but doesn't move. He lets himself fall into the canyon that appears beneath him. He falls through an overwhelming, all encompassing darkness for a moment, then lands in the cemetery outback of the church. He scrambles to his feet, looks up and sees a giant gravestone. On it is engraved 'Luna Paloma De La Vega Santos'.

Suddenly he's lying in bed in a cold sweat. He's awake, but can't seem to open his eyes or move his body. A weight is crushing down on his chest. He can't breathe. He can't breathe. He's going to die one day and be buried in a dress with a girl's name on his grave. A girl's name. A girl's body. He can't breathe. Why can't he move? His jaw is locked painfully. Maybe he's dying now. Maybe he's already dead. He starts to cry, and gradually his eyes open. He's on the floor in his room at Abuela's. Gracias Jesús, he thinks, and stands up. A wave of nausea hits him when he catches his reflection in the glass of the window and suddenly the breathless feeling is back. The world is shrinking around him. He's an ugly girl. No one is ever, ever going to see him as a boy. Ever. He knows what he has to do. 

Sonny pads shakily out of his bedroom door and tiptoes into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He climbs on top of the toilet to open the highest cabinet, and sure enough what he's looking for is there. The straight razor which had belonged to his great grandfather. Here goes. The nausea doubles as he looks at himself in the partially moonlit bathroom mirror, along with a ton of uncertainty. He pushes it down. He has to do this now, or he'll regret it forever. He lifts the blade up until he can almost feel its coolness against his skin and cuts. 

The chunk of hair falls to the bathroom floor and Sonny suppresses a screech. His hair has never been any more than trimmed for 14 years, and now a two and a half foot strip of it is gone, just like that. It's terrifying, his whole body is shaking, but it's also somehow sickly amazing. He grabs another handful of curls and slashes away, this time a little further from the roots. Then another. Then another. He cuts a little blindly at the back, as he can't exactly see there, but it feels short enough. In fact, it feels amazing. He's not quite sure what he's doing, but he perseveres until the bathroom floor is covered in hair and Sonny looks, he thinks, a little like the dude from that summer camp movie. He can't really tell in the half light, though. The nausea is gone, replaced by that perfect glowing feeling. He grins manically and runs his hands through his hair over and over and over again, feeling warm and good. He clears up the hair on the floor and hides the razor again before padding back to bed, this time with much more of a spring in his quiet step. He hops into bed with a smile and falls into an undisturbed sleep for once. 

Sonny's smiling when he wakes up as well, despite the fact that it's six in the morning, he's only had two hours sleep and the sound of his alarm is grating on his ears. He sits up, stretches, smiles and glances over to the window to catch his reflection, gets a look at his hair and screams. 

His hair, in a word, is abominable. It's half mullet and half bob. It's ultra short in some places and down to his shoulders in others. It's all somehow ninety times curliest than usual, meaning that some of it is sticking up vertically. It's not boyish, it's not girly, it's just ugly. Nausea consumes him as he stares blankly at his reflection. It's like watching a horror film at the goriest part, horrific but transfixing. He sits staring for a long moment, then bursts into tears. He's hideous. He looks even more like an ugly girl than before. Sobs wrack his body and he hides back under his bedcovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so there it is, pals! thank you for your patience and your constant support of my awful writing.


	15. impermeable de amor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i would die for the salon girls?

An hour later Abuela comes bustling in. Sonny pretends to be asleep. She doesn't buy it: “¿Qué tal, nena?”   
“Horrible. Tengo una migraña.” Luna mumbles from under the covers. It’s easy for Sonny to get a day off school, because by and large his attendence record is flawless and he is by no means one for pulling a sicky. Until now.  
“¿Ay? Usted necesita dormir más, Lulita.”   
“Seguro.”  
“Dormir. No hay escuela hoy.”  
“Bien. Gracias, Abuela.”  
“De nada. Dormir.” Sonny hears her shut the door from under the duvet, then waits until he hears the front door slam to emerge from his pit of self pity. He pulls on a shirt and shorts, grabs a baseball cap from Usnavi’s room to cover the mess of his hair and sprints out of the apartment. Down the stairs. Across the street, past the frozen hydrant and into the salon. 

 

When he gets in the scene is fairly mundane: Dani is painting her nails, Vanessa is trying to fix a broken hair straightener and Carla is sweeping the linoleum. There’s a beat just after he enters, then everything erupts. Vanessa drops the straightener and practically screeches: “Luna! Mi querida!” Before running right over and nearly lifting Sonny off the ground in the biggest tightest hug possibly of all time, babbling in spanglish like an old tia even though she’s barely eighteen. She pulls away, plants a soft kiss on Sonny’s forehead and flashes him a smile which somehow makes him forget everything that’s ever been wrong in the world before letting Carla have at him. Carla pinches his cheek and tells him he should come over more. Daniela stays seated on the counter, still painting her nails, perfectly poised, and beckons him over.   
“¿Que pasa, Lulu?” She says, a quirk in her eyebrow and glimmer in her eye which tell Sonny that she’s not really asking what’s up, but what’s happening that she can tell everyone in a five mile radius about.  
“Nada, Dani.”  
“No school today?” Sonny stays quiet and Dani’s eyes light up: “Lunaaaaa! You bad girl! Why you skipping?” He blushes with his whole body.  
“Personal reasons?”  
“Ay? Some chico break ya heart? You layin’ low?” The blush intensifies as Carla and Vanessa click their teeth at him.   
“No-no way! I just… Messed something up a little?” Daniela gives him a dead eyed look and purses her lips:  
“Rip the bandaid off, chica. Vamos.” Sonny does just that. He pulls the hat off and reveals the mess.

 

There’s an audible gasp. Dani drops her nail polish. Carla covers her mouth to muffle a small scream. Vanessa, bless her, is less dramatic. She sighs sympathetically and whisper “Luna, what have you done?” Sonny shrugs.  
“I… Did it in the dark.” There’s a collective mumble of ‘ay dios’.  
“I’m sure we can fix it?” Carla’s trying to be nice. Dani’s not so bothered:  
“Doubt it.” Vanessa is more resilient:  
“We can try.” She steers Sonny into one of the hairdressing chairs and all three of them begin poking and prodding and pulling at his hair. Dani shakes her hair.  
“It’s gonna have to be a shave, m’afraid. Non-salvageable. We gotta bandaid this thing as well, though.”  
“Meaning?”  
“Meaning Miss Luna here best shut her eyes, claro?” Sonny nods and screws his eyes tight shut. There’s a loud buzz and a weird vibration near his skin for a minute and a half or so, and the feeling of soft hair like snow on his shoulders, and then nothing. And Dani tells him to open his eyes. And he looks in the mirror and sees…. Himself. The same boy. Still a little chubby, still covered in freckles, still with ears that stick out a little too much for his liking, but now with a perfectly even crew cut. A boys haircut. He looks almost like Pete’s drawing of him. Radiant. He realises that Vanessa has been holding his hand throughout the whole haircut, and makes eye contact with her. “You okay?” She whispers. Is he?  
“Mhm.”  
“Do you like it?”  
“I… Think so?” He pauses. Something feels wrong. He should be happy. Why isn’t he happy? Tears begin to prickle his eyes. He bows his head. Vanessa coos softly and hugs him. He whispers “it’s just… It’s a lot.” The adrenaline has rushed out of him, making the tears fall faster. She makes an understanding noise.  
“I know, honey. If it makes you feel better, I think you look stunning.” Dani and Carla murmur their agreement and Sonny whispers his thanks. He’s feeling a little better when a realisation hits him:  
“What in the hell am I gonna tell Usnavi and Abuela?” There’s a moment of intense silence, a collective ‘ummmm…’ and then a burst of suggestions:  
“You had lice?”  
“You got gum in your hair?”  
“Bad bleaching incident?”  
“A bird pecked it off?”  
“The black market?”  
“The truth?” Daniela, Vanessa give Carla a weird look at that, but Sonny looks at her,  
“The truth is that I… Wanted it gone. I was sick of it. It didn’t make me feel good.”   
“So tell them that! They’re your familia, Lu, all they want is for you to be happy!” Carla smiles.  
“But what if what makes me happy isn’t what makes them happy?”  
“Then if they love you they’ll get used to it.”   
“Trust me kid, Carla knows her share about that stuff” Dani injects. Sonny feels warm.  
“Alright, I’ll tell them that. Gracias, guys.” There’s a chorus of ‘de nada’ and Sonny manages a smile. 

 

He stays for another hour, chatting with the girls until Daniela remembers he’s supposed to be at school and chucks him out on his ass. Vanessa and Carla smile and wave from the window as Sonny pulls his hat back on and runs home before Dani throws shampoo at him or something. Abuela’s not home yet so Sonny makes himself oatmeal, gets back into bed and watches the city through his bedroom window. Every once in awhile he runs his hand over his hair again and sighs happily. It’s gonna be difficult telling Usnavi and Abuela tonight, but for now he’s okay. He’s just fine.


	16. '...natalie portman.'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this one's a lil short.

He stays for another hour, chatting with the girls until Daniela remembers he’s supposed to be at school and chucks him out on his ass. Vanessa and Carla smile and wave from the window as Sonny pulls his hat back on and runs home before Dani throws shampoo at him or something. Abuela’s not home yet so Sonny makes himself oatmeal, gets back into bed and watches the city through his bedroom window. Every once in awhile he runs his hand over his hair again and sighs happily. It’s gonna be difficult telling Usnavi and Abuela tonight, but for now he’s okay. He’s just fine.

 

That evening Usnavi comes into Sonny’s room and sits on the corner of his bed. Sonny has his head hidden under his duvet and his heart is racing like a freaking cheetah. When Usnavi speaks he’s clearly trying to hide how drained he is: “how’s stuff, chica?” Sonny makes a groaning noise. “I’ll take that as bad.”  
“Mhm.”  
“You leaving your dark slumber for dinner?”   
“Eh.” The noise is fairly noncommittal. Usnavi gives a small syllable of a laugh.   
“Well at least show us your face so I can take your tempetaure.” Fuck. Rip the bandaid off, Sonny. He sits up. Usnavi’s eyes look like dinner plates. He makes a strange noise like he’s run out of air, shuts his eyes, opens them, shuts them again, tilts his head to one side, opens his mouth, closes his mouth and widens his eyes again before choking out “what. Have. You. Done.” Sonny feels sick.  
“Cut my hair?”  
“Yeah I- Saw- I-” Usnavi takes an extremely deep breath before he speaks in a totally pained voice “I- Can’t- Do this right now, Luna. I gotta-” He stands, rubs his eyes, gives Sonny a drained look and leaves the room. 

 

Sonny wants to cry. He lies down and sighs for what feels like forever. He’s ruined everything. He’s upset Usnavi and Usnavi really doesn’t need upsetting right now. Sadness hangs heavy on his shoulders as he gets up and walks into the kitchen. Bandaid it, he thinks. Just show abuela now. She’s busying around the stove when Sonny sits down at the table:  
“Mejor?” She hasn’t turned around.  
“Si… Abuela?” She turns around. Looks him up and down. He looks down at his feet. There’s a deafening silence. He feels really ill for a long moment before he feels a soft hand on the newly downy curls on his head. He looks up and Abuela is smiling down at him, her voice is soft and husky when she speaks:  
“Natalie Portman.”  
“Que?”  
“In that fighting movie. You look like Natalie Portman.” Sonny is shocked for a second before he actually cracks a surprised smile,  
“That’s a good thing.”  
“Si. Guapa.” Sonny beams,  
“Gracias, Abuela.”  
“De nada, amor. Dormir, si?”  
“Si. Buenas noches.”  
“Que dios te bendiga, mija.” She says, pressing a kiss to Sonny’s forehead. He’s so relieved he doesn’t even mind the misgendering.

 

He pads back into his room, checks his reflection in a mirror and runs his hands over his hair a few times before crossing himself and getting into bed. He counts his blessings as he lies on his back in bed. Usnavi’s reaction could’ve been worse. He didn’t really say anything about it. And abuela was amazing. She is amazing, Sonny thinks, she’s quietly clever and brave and his mom can shut up about how he doesn’t have good role models. He’s got some of the best living in the same flat as him. He curls up into a ball and falls asleep, some of his worst worries gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll write more next time, i promise. sorry. im on a bad one. comments are always endlessly appreciated xx


	17. cinta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> huge tw for dysphoria and unsafe binding in this chapter!!
> 
> this chapter and the next few inspired by a prompt from the pal @caramelsocks thank u bud xx

It was a long, cold weekend. It was cold in Abuela’s apartment and the bodega, where even after a month of orphanhood Usnavi was still distant and quiet. It was cold on Saturday at Ciela and Carlos’ bougie flat in Hastings-On-Hudson, where Sonny sat for ten minutes before running straight out, diving into the Rosario’s minivan and yelping “drive, Link! Drive!” Lincoln floored it all the way back to the heights before dropping him at Bennett Park, where Pete is waiting with hands which are cold when they ruffle Sonny’s new hair. The park is cold as Sonny and Pete lie in the January snow, making angels. Pete’s got his polaroid camera and they take pictures. Pictures of their footsteps in the snow. Pictures of their eyes, which are tipped with snowflakes. One picture of Sonny, grinning as he spins around in the snow. In that moment he felt warm, but once he gets home he’s cold again. Usnavi sits at the kitchen table staring into space as Sonny throws beans, tomatoes, onions and seasoning into the pressure cooker before cranking it up to full. Sonny tries to make conversation, but with little success. They eat their beans and rice in silence.

 

The silence gives Sonny far too much room to think. He becomes aware of how high his voice has been recently, as opposed to when Pete turned fourteen and his voice was full of cracks and drops and breaks. He becomes aware of how tiny his shoulders are compared to Benny’s when he turned fourteen and practically changed shape overnight. Shape. Sonny crosses his arms over his chest. He hates his chest. He hates this apartment. Right now, he hates Usnavi for making him feel bad for trying to be happy. He hates his chest. He wants to leave, but he has to finish his food. He has to try. Sonny looks over at the counter, where a green roll of duct tape is placed. An idea forms.

 

Abuela gets back from dinner with the piraguero at nine and Usnavi talks to her. Not much, but more than he did to Sonny. Sonny grabs the roll duct tape from the counter and goes to his room, where he sits down on his bed in front of the mirror. He’s wearing his big green shirt which covers his hips and makes his shoulders look a little better, but his chest. His chest. He feels sick looking at it. He has to get rid of it. He pulls his shirt and bra off, stands up and clutches the duct tape in his hands so hard that his knuckles turn white. His arms and legs are shaking. His eyes are smarting. He hates his chest. He hates his chest.

 

Twenty minutes later Sonny is still standing in front of the mirror, green shirt on and green tape covering a quarter of his torso. His chest isn’t quite flat, but boys’ chests never are. They have… Pecs? Pecs. So its okay if his chest isn’t flat. Pecs. He feels good. He feels great, in fact. He makes a dumb stance like a guy from an action film, throws a fake punch, glowers at his reflection in a ‘manly’ way, holds it for a moment then bursts into laughter at his own expression. The laughter hurts his chest, but he ignores it. He turns around again so he can look at himself in profile and see how flat his torso is. Short hair and a flat chest. Boy. He’s a boy. He finally looks like who he actually is. He’s so happy he could cry. When he gets into bed the tape digs into his underarms a little, but he doesn’t mind. He sleeps happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my body has been permanently damaged due to unsafe chest binding. i had internal bruising for weeks and now, a year and a half later, i still have constant back aches. my friend was hospitalised and nearly died. this chapter is not glorifying unsafe binding. the use of it is because it is realistic. unsafe binding ruined my body and nearly took my friends life. don't do it. for the love of all that is good and holy. thank you. take care, a x


	18. "sensación de gran"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw for skipping meals and unsafe binding and hospitals and blood in this chapter,,,, it sounds bad when i put it like that,,, because it is

Pete and Sonny walk to school together on Monday morning, balancing on drain pipes and dancing to the music blasting from the taxis which blast past them as they go. Sonny skips lunch because he does extra credit work. at lunchtime. Sonny feels great. 

 

On Tuesday evening Sonny goes to mass with Abuela and Usnavi. He actually listens to the sermon for once. He sings along with the hymn extra loud. He may actually believe in God. Sonny feels great.

 

He signs up for extra curricular cross country on Wednesday, because with a flat chest he feels like he can do anything. He ignores the tugging at his skin. Usnavi actually smiles and listens to Sonny’s story about the phys ed coach. Sonny feels great.

 

Pete and Sonny walk to school together on Thursday morning, but Sonny lags behind. Pete comments on it. Sonny hurls the sludge from the melted at his head and they both laugh and forget about it. Sonny feels great.

 

In the evening on Friday, Sonny preps for the cross country friendly on Saturday. He goes home early because he’s a little tired. He’s not sure if he’s eaten. He’s hurting. He’s hurting. Sonny feels great.

 

At four pm on Saturday, Nina Rosario is leaving the library after a weekend revision session when Cadence McColl runs up to her looking like she’s seen a ghost. When she speaks it’s breathless and terrified: “you know the de la Vegas?” Nina is dubious,  
“Yeah?” Cadence is looking green. Anxiety begins building in Nina’s throat.  
“Their youngest- Luna- She- They- Bought her in five minutes ago- She was running and she- She fell and there was- blood-” Nina’s face turns ashen. Cadence starts shaking violently. Nina grabs her arms and tries not to hiss when she speaks:  
“Where is she?” Cadence doesn’t have time to answer before Nina hears an ambulance draw up in the parking lot. She practically drops Cadence and bolts for the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next will be longer, promise. a xo


	19. clarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw for unsafe binding, mentions of blood and pain and stuff

Nina Rosario runs like the fucking down the stairs of that shitty school. So fast that her legs have trouble keeping up with the rest of her body as it surges forward. So fast that she barely manages to grab her phone from her pocket and click on Benny’s contact, all still while running.  
“Yo?”  
“Benny. You got your license, right?”  
“Yeah, but Nina-”  
“I need you to pick me up from the high school as soon as fucking possible.”  
“Roger that, Ni…” Nina runs down the hall, still with the phone pressed to her face, “Nina, are you okay?” She realises she must sound utterly deranged.  
“Fine, Benny, I’m fine.”  
“You sure?” She gets out into the parking lot and sees a taxi with her surname printed on it, runs to it and throws herself into the passenger seat.  
“I’m sure.” Benny turns around and looks at her. She’s out of breath and looks on the verge of tears. He figures it's best not to ask questions right now.   
“So where to?”  
“The hospital. Quickly, please.” Benny nods and floors it.

 

Nina watches the city fly by as she waits for her mom to pick up.  
“Quién es?”  
“Mami? Es Nina.”  
“Mi amor! Como era la escuela?”  
“Bien, Mami, pero necesito you to tell Usnavi that Luna is in hospital. He hasn’t been answering calls.” Benny makes a shocked noise at the same time that Camila gasps over the phone.  
“Hospital? Luna? Que pasa?”  
“Yo no se, pero I know it’s bad.”  
“Claro, I’ll tell him. Your father will get someone to drive him over.”  
“Gracias Mami. See you there.”  
“Chao, querida.” Nina hangs up and takes a deep breath. The anxiety has tripled. Cadence said something about blood. Jesus Christ. Something’s really wrong with Sonny, and once again Nina seems to be more aware and proactive about it than his family. Is that unfair? Probably. Usnavi can’t help it. His parents only died a month ago, he can’t just snap back. And Ciela isn’t a bad mom. She just wants better for herself and Sonny, and Nina thinks that’s fair. Although Ciela’s boyfriend is slimy as hell. Nina smiles to herself remembering Sonny’s impression of him, complete with too much aftershave and a fake moustache. Nina suddenly feels nauseous thinking of that same smart funny boy lying alone in a hospital bed. She asks Benny to drive faster. He gives her a sweet, sympathetic smile and revs the engine.

 

///////////

 

Sonny wakes up in a warm white room and he cannot feel anything. He can’t move, can’t speak, can’t even look anywhere except up. He breathes in and it feels fire and blood ravage his lungs. He wants his mom. Something cold and metal touches his chest, there’s a snipping noise, and suddenly he can breathe. It hurts, but he can breathe. It feels like heaven. He blacks out.

 

////////// 

Usnavi and Nina sit outside the intensive care room, leaning on eachother. Benny is parking and Camila is getting water. Nina has just finished sobbing. Usnavi is staring at the wall while gently stroking her hair. He feels awful, he’s been awful. Maybe he is awful, he thinks as he hears the doctors mumbling to each other. He has been totally and utterly absent. He’s isolated himself for what he thought was everyone’s good, but all he’s done is damage. And sure, he’s felt like shit, he lost half his family, but the other half was sitting right in front of him, feeling like shit too. He could’ve associated. He could’ve been kinder. He could’ve said that Luna’s hair looks good, because it does look good, he could’ve talked to her and worked out that something was up before it became up, he could’ve-

 

“Senor de la Vega?” Dr. Santiago is standing in front of him.   
“Si, Médica?” He must look terrified because she gives him and Nina a supportive smile.   
“Luna will be okay.” Nina presses her hands to her face and lets out a guttural noise which is part relief and half lingering fear. Usnavi sinks back into his chair, thanking Jesus. “However, she needs to know that what she was doing was extremely dangerous.” Usnavi sits up again and bites his lip.   
“What was she doing?”  
“Using tape to flatten her chest.” Nina curses under her breath. Usnavi is confused. Doctor Santiago keeps talking, “We have reason to believe that she had had that tape on since Saturday or Sunday night. It certainly keeps everything in place, “but it is extremely dangerous. Luna’s lungs could not fully expand, and the physical stress she was under meant that three of her ribs are broken,” ,Usnavi tries to interject, but the Doctor raises her hand to stop him, “however that isn’t all. If Luna had run a few more steps today she could’ve punctured her lung. It would’ve collapsed and she would’ve died.” Usnavi feels like he’s been kicked in the head. Died. His cousin could have died. Jesus. “However, she will recover. She’ll need to stay a few nights here and her skin is quite torn up around her chest, but she will be fine this time. You just need to make it explicitly clear that she can never do that again, si Senor Usnavi?”  
“Si. Gracias, Dona Santiago.”  
“De nada. Es mi trabajo. Y Senor, take this-”, She hands him a booklet with a white blue and pink flag on it, “-I think it might answer some questions for you. Chao.” She turns and walks back into the ward.

 

Nina and Usnavi sit in stunned silence for a moment, before erupting into speech:  
“Navi, she could have-”  
“-died!” Can you-”  
“-no! She-”  
“-I can’t-” Usnavi feels dizzy. He looks down at the booklet: ‘Transsexualism in Teenagers: a Guide for Parents’. He feels a thousand times worse as the pieces of the puzzle finally slot together. “Nina… Do you know about why Lu might have… Done that?” Nina looks down at the booklet then back up, meets his eyes and makes a decision.  
“Because she’s not a she?” That confirms it.  
“You knew?”  
“You knew? He told you?”  
“She- He- Did, but I didn’t think she was serious!” Nina looks like she wants to scream.  
“When was this?”  
“Just before mama and dad…” He realises how long ago it was.  
“Oh.” Nina’s face is impossible to read. “You didn’t think he was serious?”  
“I thought it was some teenage thing, I was preoccupied, I was worried, I-”  
“Worried about what?”  
“I don’t want her to change. I want Luna, my cousin, not a boy.” Nina rolls her eyes. 

 

“Usnavi Miguel de la Vega, I am gonna say this once and once only so you better listen up. Think about Lu. You’ve known him since he was three in S.D. When he came to the US you carried him from the harbour to the heights on your back. You were younger than he is now. You basically taught him english. Taught him how to read cause he’d never been to school. Taught him how to use the till in the bodega. You kicked that kid’s ass when he called Lu a smartass. Y’all were inseparable. Am I correct?” She looks at him. Usnavi nods. “Now, would any of that, would any single bit have been any different if he’d been a boy the whole time? Would he be less of a cousin? A brother? A part of your family? Would he matter any less or more to you if he had known he was a boy the whole time? Really?” Usnavi thinks about it. He thinks about those moments, picking pomegranates in Santo Domingo with a three year old Luna on his shoulders during the best summer of his life. The first sentence Luna said in english. Her first day of school. Would they be any different? He thinks for another beat before he speaks:  
“No.” Of course not. He’s been an asshole and now he has to fix it. Nina sighs in relief,  
“Gracias a Dios. Now go in there and tell your dumbass cousin that you love him.” Usnavi nods and hugs her, mumbling thanks into her ear. She brushes it off and pushes him toward the door of the room. 

Usnavi takes a deep breath and crosses himself. For the first time in ages he feels real clarity about what he has to do: fix stuff with Lu. And it starts now. Because if it doesn’t start now it never will, and something worse than this will happen. He has been awful and he is well and truly sorry and his cousin has to know. He has to. Usnavi opens the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah,,,, feel like this is awful but whatev hope u like a xx


	20. "...oye..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> usnavi and sonny's talk 2.0

Usnavi takes a deep breath and crosses himself. For the first time in ages he feels real clarity about what he has to do: fix stuff with Lu. And it starts now. Because if it doesn’t start now it never will, and something worse than this will happen. He has been awful and he is well and truly sorry and his cousin has to know. He has to. Usnavi opens the door.

 

Sonny is sleeping sat up in the stiff hospital bed when Usnavi walks in, and it's hard not to notice how awful he looks. The bleak white lights above him highlight everything, from the bruising on the side of his face from the fall to the blood on his upper lip from the nosebleed to the dark circles under his eyes from the lack of sleep. On top of that, Usnavi notices he looks… Drawn. Hollow. Sure, his face is still soft and chubby, but there’s no colour in his cheeks. His lips are almost blue. He’s wearing a hospital gown, but the sleeves are a little wide on him so Usnavi can see the green and purple bruises coating his torso. He feels a little sick. He sits down by the bed. He can hear Sonny breathing, it’s ragged and irregular and wrong and Usnavi just wants to make it stop. 

 

He thinks about what Nina said about Usnavi’s memories with his cousin. When Sonny and tía Ciela landed in America when Usnavi was thirteen Ciela was too tired and shattered to hold her sleeping five year old daughter, so Usnavi's dad picked Sonny up and passed him to Usnavi. He smelt of engine oil and smoke and cut grass. Usnavi dutifully carried him for the duration of the hour long walk from the harbour to the heights with so much care that Sonny might as well have been made out of glass. His dad smiled proudly and whispered 'she's gonna be like a sister to you, tu sabes?' He remembers nodding.

Now he's remembering more moments from Sonny’s and his childhood. He's remembering the six months after Sonny came to NYC where he didn't know any English and would only refer to Usnavi as 'barco niño', the time when he fell off the pew at Nina's quince with a scream that gave the priest heart palpitations, the time he ate a whole jar of peanut butter for a dare and was so hyper afterwards that he ran headfirst into a wall and didn't even notice, the way he greeted Usnavi by pouncing on him and hugging him in a bone-crushing manner nearly every working evening since she was six. Of course nothing would be any different if he’d been a boy the whole time. Of course not.

 

He sits there for ten minutes before Sonny’s eyelashes flutter and his eyes open. He coughs, winces and looks around without seeing anything. After a minute he manages to focus on Usnavi and croaks out “oye.” His voice sounds like sandpaper. Usnavi manages a little smile before he speaks, his voice thick with emotion:  
“Oye, pibe. Que tal?” Sonny attempts to shrug but it hurts so much that he yelps. Usnavi lurches forward to try to help but Sonny waves him away with a small, rueful smile.  
“Bien, bien. Yo estoy bien.” He doesn’t look fine. Usnavi wants make it stop. “Que hora es?”  
“Tarde.” Usnavi’s mouth feels stiff. He has to say something more. “Doctor Santiago, she told you what could’ve happened?”  
“Si.”  
“Y?”  
“Y soy lo siento, ‘navi. Era estúpido.” Usnavi takes a deep breath and shakes his head.  
“No. Well si, it was a stupid thing to do, pero you weren't being stupid. You were doing something stupid to yourself because I was doing stupid stuff.” Sonny looks bewildered.  
“Are you saying-”  
“-I fucked up, kid. I ignored and… Invalidated your feelings? And your identity? And I just… Really ruined stuff? And sure I was upset, but it’s not okay to take it out on you. You’re a kid with some issues and I’m your freakin’ guardian and I shoulda helped. And m’sorry Lu- What is it you go by?” Sonny is grinning and his eyes are full of tears,  
“Sonny. I was thinking Sonny or Mateo?” Usnavi looks at him for a long moment before whispering in a voice that’s thick with a mixture of happiness and apologeticness and pain,  
“Sonny sounds great, querido.” He reaches forward and runs a hand over Sonny’s stupid too short haircut. Sonny smiles and lurches forward so he can hug his cousin. They manage to hold it for three seconds before Sonny lets out a little scream of pain and they quickly retract the embrace. Sonny grabs at the morphine release tab and gives Usnavi a sheepish smile.  
“I better utilise this. My entire body feels a burnt loaf of bread.”  
“You do that. Camila will probably come in here and fuss over you when you wake up.”  
“I’m cool with that.” Usnavi smiles genuinely and warmly.  
“See you in the mornin’ kid.”  
“Buenas noches, ‘navi.” His purple under eyes and drawn face look a little less ghostly now. Usnavi turns to the door. It’s half open when Sonny calls out in a high, husky voice: “oye, vato!”  
“Que?”  
“Te amo, cuz.”  
“Te amo tambien, Sonny. Te dice que?”  
“Si. Yo sé.” Usnavi nods before turning away to hide the fact that he’s crying and walking out the door. Nina gives him an apprehensive look and he smiles at her through the tears. She looks totally relieved. 

 

Usnavi takes a walk around the hospital grounds, thinking over things. At the same time Nina is sitting by Sonny’s bed, holding his hand. At the same time Pete is cross-examining Benny about what on earth has happened to Sonny. At the same time Abuela is at mass with Carla and Vanessa, praying for him. At the same time Sonny’s mom is sitting alone in her Hastings apartment as nobody responds to her calls. And nothing is great. And all will be well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @ my latinxs who aren't argentinian: do y'all say pibe too??? curious. hope you liked this one. a xo

**Author's Note:**

> So that's how this goes! I'm not sure what to say other than I hope you enjoyed it and I'll update soon.


End file.
